Star Wars: Growing Shadow
by claytron
Summary: Something is stirring in the Unknown Regions. A dark power, long-forgotten by the peoples of the galaxy, is regaining its strength. Sauron, the Dark Lord, is ready to reclaim dominion over the galaxy. If he finds his ring, the galaxy will burn. But not all hope is lost, for even the very wise cannot see all ends...
1. A Growing Shadow

**Year: 12 BBY**

**Planet: Jakku**

**Location: Top Secret**

**Subject: Sheev Palpatine, Emperor, Human**

"Do you not feel it?"

"No, Emperor."

"There is a great disturbance in the dark side. Somewhere. Out there…"

Palpatine stared at the holoprojection, a broken and empty map of the cold void that lay past Jakku's Observatory. Beyond the safety of their underground bunker, beyond the Jakku system, lay the Unknown Regions, uncharted and mysterious. The empty map displayed only a few dim blips, representing the few systems that were mapped, surrounded otherwise by lightyears of emptiness. The darkness of the map stared back at Palpatine with cold silence.

"What do you believe it to be, lord?" Thrawn asked calmly.

Palpatine turned his eyes towards the Fleet Admiral.

"Leave us." Palpatine ordered.

With a wave of his frail hand, the entourage of scientists and High Admirals that surrounded the holomap all bowed and dismissed themselves from the octagonal room. Palpatine and Thrawn turned from the holomap and paced the perimeter of the room.

"There is an old tale, a myth, told amongst Sith since the dawn of our order. Only recently have I grown concerned over the truth of it. A tale of a creature, a being so powerful, that only the greatest of the Sith could rival him. A creature born of the force, molded from its very essence. A creature that once almost brought the galaxy to heal."

"Lord, I have seen the Unknown Regions. I have travelled them." Thrawn said. "I have seen no evidence for any creature of which you speak."

"You would not be so quick to dismiss if you could feel the sheer power coming from the void." Palpatine replied. "It has been growing for decades. The Dark Side flows like great oceans from him. I can feel his lust for power."

"Him?"

Palpatine looked Thrawn in the eye.

"Surely the Chiss have stories of the Great Deceiver, Sauron?" Palpatine asked. "Being so close to him, surely you have felt his presence. Seen the movement of his servants."

Thrawn pondered for a moment. "There were rare reports of our navigators going mad from chronic insomnia. They said the 'nightmares of the Necromancer' was to blame, but we assumed it was mere Hyper-Rapture. Perhaps there is more to those reports than the Ascendancy would like to believe."

"What nightmares?" Palpatine asked.

"I don't remember details." Thrawn said. "But each navigator spoke of similar details in their nightmares: An eye of flame and the burning of worlds. At the time, it sounded like simple madness…"

Thrawn looked at the map, at the blackness of space that surrounded the Chiss Ascendancy. What Thrawn once thought of as unexplored space, ready for civilization to make its claim, he now looked upon as a foreboding and evil emptiness. What could be out there? What horrors did he narrowly avoid by travelling across it to reach the Empire?

"An eye of flame can only mean one thing." Palpatine muttered. "We must prepare for invasion. Do not fool yourself. The Deceiver will return, and his servants will bring his wrath down upon us, as he did so in the past."

"This has happened before?" Thrawn asked.

"Thousands of years ago, yes." Palpatine explained. "To explain everything to you would take years, and we do not have the luxury. All you must know is that Sauron is a great enemy, not to be trifled with. I present you with a task, Admiral."

"What is that?"

"He is not yet strong enough to launch his assault. We still have time to find and destroy him. The myths describe the Planet Mordor as his stronghold. You must find this Mordor and map a path for the Death Star. We will rain the Empire's fury down on him from orbit. The old myths will stay a myth. Take your fleet into the Unknown Regions and find Mordor, Admiral. This mission is of utmost importance."

Thrawn looked at the map. "It will take years, my lord. The Unknown Regions are vast. We may never find it. We don't know what faces we will be facing when we find it. There are many variables we don't-"

"You have until the Death Star is complete." Palpatine said. "You have a decade. Do not fail me."

Thrawn thought of arguing the matter, but remembered who he was talking to. He gave a bow, and moved his way to the elevator that led to the surface.

"Admiral."

"Yes, Emperor?"

"Return with the path, or do not come back at all."

Yes, Emperor…"

The doors to the elevator closed, leaving Palpatine alone in the dimly lit chamber. He stared long into the map, as if perhaps by looking hard enough, the Regions would reveal themselves to him.

"Come, Lord of Gifts. Come, relic of days long gone." Palpatine whispered to the void. "Come with every weapon, every beast, every dark thing you have at your disposal. We will be ready."

**Year: 0 BBY**

**Planet: Caridia**

**Location: Caridia Imperial Academy**

**Subject: Vanick Tarwin, Imperial Navy Officer, Human**

ASHI...

"Lieutenant Commander Tarwin, are you paying attention?!"

Vanick pulled his head from his hands and looked at the room. The other officers turned around to look at him.

"Yeah, sorry, sir, I...just...felt weird for a second." Vanich replied.

Vanick hated these old briefing rooms. The lighting was harsh and unflattering, and the walls were barren of any personality or life. The set up was more like a classroom. Uncomfortable chairs and a round table Vanick swore was designed specifically to be too cold to rest your bare arms on. The officers sat around the table, all facing inwards at the hologram that displayed their warning order.

"The Emperor, in his great and incorruptible wisdom," The presenting Admiral continued sarcastically, "Saw fit to grant you rabble with promotions to Commander, and your first commands. I know many of you thought you were going to go crush rebel skulls right off the bat…"

The room mumbled in agreement.

"...but this is your first command. Don't flatter yourselves. You're not Captains yet. The Empire doesn't risk frontline ships with the likes of you."

The room fell silent.

"On to your assignments. Lieutenant Commander Arna…"

"Sir!" Came a voice from the back.

"Garrison duty over Kashyyyk, hangar twenty, shuttle seven. Lieutenant Commander Aurus…"

The list wore on and on, and Vanick felt himself not paying attention again. He slipped into curiosity over his assignment. Garrison duty? Escorting cargo? A desk job? In a way, he was glad that he wasn't heading straight into the front lines. What could the academy teach him that would be any real use out in the heat of it? He felt a shot of adrenaline course through him as he imagined thousands dying over a single mistake. Why did he let his father convince him to join the Officer Corps, let alone try out for Captain? Vanick watched as the heads of his fellow officers sprang up at the sound of their name, then slump back down with disappointment as they heard their assignments.

"Lieutenant Commander Tarwin?"

Another shot of adrenaline.

"Sir!" Vanick shouted.

"Garrison duty over Iridonia. Hangar seven, shuttle nine."

Vanick felt a weight lift off of him as he heard the Planet's name. Iridonia. It was relatively quiet, far away from the rebellion. Close to the Core. Loyalist planet. Easy posting.

"You all have your assignments. The time is now 1145 hours. Report to your hangars no later than 1500. Gives you three hours to eat, pack your kit and get there. Dismissed."

The hologram shut off, and the officers began to stand up from their seats to move toward the door.

"Iridonia, eh?"

Vanick turned. Captain Aurus. A coursemate of Vanick's. One of his only friends he had on the Commander's course. Everyone was so busy with their studies, they didn't take time to socialize, but not Aurus. He was always willing to share a story, or just talk. Not the greatest leader, but he was an agreeable and amusing officer, and knew his stuff inside-and-out when it came to tactics and ship-to-ship warfare. By all rights, the guy should have been expelled and shot back down to Lieutenant weeks ago, but somehow, by the grace of the Emperor's will, he graduated, and was off to command his own vessel.

"Iridonia." Vanick replied as the two moved their way into the busy halls of the academy. "Probably the best I could have expected."

"Better than Naboo. More interesting, anyway…" Aurus replied. "They train us for months, then they promote us and send us to serve as glorified babysitters over loyalist worlds that haven't needed a garrison in decades. Waste of training if you ask me."

"I'd rather break myself into the Commander's seat than be sent straight to the frontline, myself." Vanick Argued

"Well, perhaps it's not all bad." Aurus said, patting Vanick on the back, "Plenty of shore leave for you to try that Zabrak cuisine. Also, just a friendly rumor from you to me, I've heard that Zabrak females like a man in uniform…"

"Lieutenant Commander Aurus!" Came a stern voice from behind.

The two turned to see Captain Corvus, one of the academy's staff, following closely behind.

"Sir!" Aurus said, coming to attention.

"Leave that disgusting talk to the non-commissioned ranks! You are an Imperial Officer! Sworn to uphold the doctrine of the Empire! Act like it!"

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir.

"That's a written warning on your record, Commander. If anyone other than me heard about your discussion about the...lesser species...your punishment would be far worse. Consider yourself lucky the Academy C.O. didn't hear about this. Next time, I'll charge you, and mark my words, the CO will hear about it. "

"Yes, Sir…"

"And you, Tarwin…" Corvus said, turning to Vanick.

"Sir?" Vanick replied, also coming to attention.

Corvus looked over Vanick's uniform.

"Your rank plaque is crooked."

"Sir."

"You would also do best to keep better company. If your father caught you discussing such...subjects, he would be far less forgiving than I am. You're getting your promotion tomorrow. Don't mess it up before then."

"Yes, sir."

Corvus gave the two officers a heavy scowl, then walked off. The two captains looked awkwardly at each other, then at the staff and officers that saw the ordeal. The bleach-white hallway felt oddly quiet for a few moments before the usual hustle and bustle returned.

"Wel...lunch?" Aurus asked. "Probably the last time we'll be able to talk since we're about to be flung halfway across the galaxy from each other. I'm hoping for the blue nutrient packets today. They've been serving red for four days straight now! Honestly, it's like they don't even care about us!"

/

"That's everyone, mount up!" The Petty Officer taking attendance yelled over the sounds of the busy hangar.

Vanick threw his kit bag under his seat and sat down. These Lambda-Class shuttles always made him sick. The takeoff and landings, especially. It didn't help that they always smelled of Stormtrooper sweat and blaster smoke, and this one was no different. Maybe even more so than usual.

"Everyone good?" The Petty Officer asked, giving a thumbs-up.

Vanick raised his thumb in the air, along with the rest of the passengers in the back. The shuttle sealed itself shut, and the engines burst to life. Vanick felt his guts shift as the shuttle lagged off of the hangar platform. There was a momentum shift, and Vanick felt his body lean as the shuttle shot forward.

"You okay, sir? You don't look too good." A Lieutenant to Vanick's right asked.

"Just these shuttles…" Vanick replied, taking off his officer cap and running his fingers through his dark, slicked-back hair.

"You sure you're a Navy Officer?" The Commander across from him asked with a smirk.

"I ask myself that a lot." Vanick whispered under his breath.

"What was that?" The Commander asked over the roar of the engine.

Vanick looked up at the Commander and gave a fake smile.

"Nothing."

**Year: 0 BBY**

**Planet: Iridonia**

**Location: Miladris**

**Subject: Marcos Rey, Stormtrooper Corps Sergeant, Human**

"I love this damn planet…"

Marcos kicked a rock across the square. He watched as it skipped and bounced across the pavement, into the side of a building nearby. The Zabrak citizens gave Marcos a dirty look as they walked by.

"What's there to love about it, Sergeant?" Private Marsch asked, confused.

"Are you serious, Private Marsch? Just…look at 'er!" Marcos replied. "Acid oceans, desert as far as the eye can see, and would you just smell that sweet Iridonian air…"

Marcos gave a big, exaggerated sniff through his helmet's radio.

"Smells horrible, Sergeant." Private Marsch mumbled. "I can't stand it."

"Exactly. You ever been in a real fight, private?" Marcos asked.

"No, Sergeant." Private Marsch replied shyly.

"Well, that's what a real fight smells like. Horrible and not much else. That's about as close as we'll get to a real fight on this planet...the smell."

"Tell him the story about the Wookiee that almost killed you, there, sarge!" Corporal Dyson called out as he inspected Zabrak's papers.

"Oh, yeah, the Private will love that one!" Corporal Terrik chimed in.

"You know I hate telling that one." Marcos said sternly.

"Well, we all love it." Terrik said cheerfully.

"Fine. So there I was, at the Taming of Kashyyyk," Marcos started. "It was a routine patrol, no enemy activity for miles around. When all of a sudden, out of the trees comes this...HORDE of Wookiees, you tracking? One of them...picks me up with one arm...and tosses me a good solid ten meters into the treeline. My helmet short circuits, so I can't see a damn thing! I feel this massive hand around my neck. I get lifted off the ground. I take my helmet off, and see this giant, angry Wookiee face, breathing right into mine. He roars at me, and what did I do, Corporal Dyson?"

"You lit a detonator, sarge." Dyson reped.

"I lit a detonator." Marcos confirmed. "I hold it to my chest. The Wookie's eyes go wide. He drops me and runs, and I toss the detonator after the Wookiee. I guess through sheer dumb luck, I throw it right at his feet just in time for the thing to go off underneath him."

Marcos' lowered his head. The group was quiet for a moment. Marcos cleared his throat and walked over to Marsch.

"This smell of the smoke and what was left after the Wookiee…" The sergeant said solemnly, "This planet smells nothing like that. Not even close. If you can't handle this smell, then pray you never have to fight a real battle."

"Yes, Sergeant." Marsch said quietly.

"You know what else is great about this planet?" Marcos continued, his tone changin back into lightheartedness. "You'll never have to polish your armor ever again. No point with all this sand, and you can tell Lieutenant Cul, if he has a problem with that, he can talk to me."

"Sergeant!"

Marcos turned to the source of the noise. Corporal Barris came running up, pushing through the crowd, out of breath and panicked.

"What do you have for me, Corporal?"

"I think you should come see this." Barris replied in between gasps for air.

"Show me. Rest of you, stay put and keep doing what you're doing."

Marcos followed Barris through the crowd, past the skyscrapers of the bustling capital city, past the marketplace and into an obscure alleyway.

"Holy..." Marcos said, looking at the body lying in the alley.

The Zabrak body was male. There was a hole cut into his chest. Crudely carved into its forehead was the symbol of an eye, with a narrow vertical pupil. The expression of the corpse's face was strangely calm for having been exsanguinated.

"You see that? No blood at all, just like the rest."

"That's how many this week?" Barris said solemnly.

"Twenty, maybe more now…" Marcos muttered. "I'll put up the report, Corporal, good work."

"What is it, some kind of cult?" Barris asked.

"No idea, but no more going off alone. Stick with your battle buddy. We do this by the book until we know what's going on."

"You got it, sarge."

Marcos turned to exit the alleyway but stopped in his tracks when he saw two robed figures standing at the exit, both with that same eye symbol carved into their foreheads.

"Halt!" Marcos shouted, raising his blaster into his shoulder. "Stop right there!"

The two figures took off. Marcos lowered his aim and chased after them.

"MOVE! MAKE A HOLE! NOW!" Marcos screamed as he pushed through the Zabrak marketplace after the two figures.

The citizens barely budged as he shoved through them, seemingly unaware that the stormtrooper was even there. Marcos fired a warning shot into the air. The crowd let out surprised exclamations and quickly distanced themselves from the sergeant. He ran a few more meters through the cleared marketplace, but the figures had disappeared from his sight.

"Damn it…" Marcos whispered to himself.

"What do we do now?" Barris asked.

"We put up the report, and hope the Lieutenant actually reads the thing…" Marcos replied. "Something is very, very wrong down here, and it's getting worse."

**Year: 0 BBY**

**Planet: Yaga Minor**

**Location: Imperial Shipyards**

**Subject: Mala Pong, Rebel Saboteur, Twi'lek**

Mala crouched behind some cargo boxes and watched as a group of Yagai engineers shuffled by. Their purple skin was covered in metal shavings and dust, drenched in the residue of their enslavement. Mala lowered her head as they slowly moved around a corner. The screams of an Imperial slaver came from the halls beyond.

"Are you on break?! Move faster! Alien scum! There's work here, needs doing!"

Mala flinched. One of the Yagai groaned as the slaver's baton whipped into its back. She looked at her blaster and thought about saving them, taking them back to Yavin. The rebellion could use good engineers like them, but how would she sneak them off the yards? How would she keep eight Yagai quiet through these vast hallways? How many troopers stood between them and her ship? Another whipping sound came from the hallway in the distance. She sighed and carried on with her mission.

"Okay, Scraps, let's get on with it. Find me a way to the storage hangar." She said, checking her motion detector for incoming patrols.

A series of chirps and whistles came from Mala's back, and the sphere strapped to her back split open, revealing an old, refitted CIS buzz droid. Scraps hopped off her back and scuttled across the floor. The tiny droid scanned the halls, then scuttled up the wall to the nearby ventilation port. It beeped and looked back at Mala, then pointed at the shaft.

"Scraps, there has to be a better way, I'll barely fit through there." Mala said, looking skeptically at the tiny port.

Scraps looked at the port, then back at Mala. It pointed aggressively at the port again and let out a sassy beep.

"It's always vent shafts with you, isn't it? Fine! Get me in there." Mala said, the motion detector suddenly flashing on her wrist. She heard the exchange of trooper comms in the distance, the recognizable clicks of their helmet's speaker systems echoing through the empty hallways.

"Extra duties for that? Really?!" One voice said.

"I know, it's favoritism is what it is." Another voice replied. "I could name you three other guys who had the exact same shoulder plate mod, and they got no extras at all. Why would they sell it at the kit shop if they didn't want us wearing it?!"

"I really don't know..."

"Come on, Scraps…" Mala said, getting nervous as the buzz droid slowly cut its way through the ventilation port's cover.

The cover came loose, and Mala caught it just before it crashed to the ground. She gave Scraps a dirty look, placed the cover down lightly on the floor, behind the cargo boxes and jumped into the shaft.

"Which way?" Mala asked as she slithered through the claustrophobic ducts.

Ahead was a three-way split in the duct. Scraps was scuttling in front of her, the blue glow of its scanner lighting the way ahead. It gave a chirp and broke left. Mala followed behind, trying not to make too much noise as they passed by a duct for one of the barracks.

"Can't wait to get posted off-world. Damn, Yagai stink."

"I'm putting my name in for Death Star duty."

"The Death Star? You barely polish your armor as it is, they'll wipe the floor with you on that station. You know they do inspections twice a day, right?"

"It has to be better than shipyard garrison duty…If I have to inventory one more engine part for those lazy nerf-herders down in stores, I'll lose it. I'm a trooper, give me something to shoot!"

"You haven't fired a round in months, you probably couldn't hit the broadside of a planet."

Mala moved past the barracks, past the conversations of the troopers. The ducts began to grow warm as they approached the storage hangar. Scraps sliced open the port cover, and Mala hopped out of the duct, crouching behind a nearby piece of engine.

She peeked over the metal frame of the engine and looked at the hangar. Giant pieces of engine parts were lined up in order of assembly on the floor. Automated craft were lifting the massive pieces of metal and machinery off the ground of the hangar, and out into space where a new Star Destroyer was waiting to be completed. Mala could see hundreds of craft buzzing around the Destroyer's frame, welding pieces to the giant ship.

"Alright, hopefully, the hyperdrive isn't installed yet. Scraps, can you find it for me?"

Scraps gave a whistle and scanned the massive hangar. It gave a happy series of beeps and pointed to the distance. Mala snuck under the conveyor belt and moved slowly through the massive ship parts. Constantly paying attention to her motion detector, she expertly snuck by the overseeing Imperial officers and quality inspectors that littered the hangar. Her feet effortlessly glided over the polished ground, moving left and right through the maze of parts, until Scraps finally brought her to the massive hyperdrive.

The hyperdrive resembled a massive computer chip. Two walls of metal protected the machinery and computers inside, but had plenty of openings for ventilation. Mala looked at the wires and tubing that tangled and wound themselves through the working of the drive. She pulled out a blazer bomb from her bag and attached it to the inside of the walls of the hyperdrive. She fiddled with some wiring and combined the bomb with the hyperdrive's circuitry.

"Alright, Scraps. I set it to blow once she's turned on. Let's get out of here."

Scraps chirped quietly and jumped onto Mala's back, reforming back into a ball.

Suddenly, the station's red alert alarm began to scream through the massive hangar.

"Attention! Scramble all fighters! This is not a drill!" Came a voice from the intercom. "Scramble all fighters!"

"Crap." Mala whispered, feeling adrenaline shoot through her body. "Is that for us? Did they find the ship?!"

She looked out the hangar window and watched as dozens of TIE squadrons blasted by. Too many fighters to take down a single ship.

"I don't think it's for us. Let's get out while they're distracted."

Mala snuck through the maze of machinery. There was a rumble as the station shook under her feet. Scraps gave a worried boop as the station's defense turbo lasers began to open fire, the power of their recoil vibrating through the halls of the shipyard.

Scraps gave Mala a tap on her shoulder. Mala turned her head and looked through the hangar doors once again, at the half-built Star Destroyer in the distance. Suddenly, a volley of slug projectiles, missiles, and turbolaser rounds struck the hull of the incomplete ship's hull. The ship immediately began to rip apart as it was pelted with fire. Then, in a flash of blinding light, it exploded dramatically, sending a massive shockwave through the hull of the shipyard. Mala lost her balance and hit the ground as the entire yard shook violently.

"All barracks, prepare for boarding parties! This is not a drill!" The voice on the intercom screamed.

"What the hell is going on?!" Mala asked herself. She got up and moved her way from the hangar to the halls. Something big struck the station, shaking the halls and throwing Mala into the wall. The harsh white lights flickered, then went out, leaving the ominous pulse of the red alert lights as the only thing illuminating the halls. Mala pulled down her goggles and turned on night vision mode. Mala looked down at her flashing motion detector.

"Crap." Mala whispered as a platoon of troopers came running through an intersecting hallway. Mala ran to a corner and tried to make herself as small as possible.

"Contact, contact! Weapons free!" Came a voice from the platoon. The light and sounds of blaster fire erupted in the hallway. Mala ignored the ring in her ears from the blaster fire and approached the hallway. She peered around the corner, but all she could see through her night vision was smoke and silhouettes of stormtroopers. An inhuman roar erupted from the smoke, and then a scream as a stormtrooper was flung backward. He landed, slid a few meters, then came to an abrupt halt as his head slammed into the wall. Blood began to spill from his cracked armor.

"What is that thing?!" Screamed a voice.

"Shoot it down!" Screamed another.

Not wanting to see what 'that thing' was, Mala sprinted past the fight. She looked down at her motion detector. Blips everywhere.

"Scraps, got another vent for me to sneak through?" Mala asked desperately.

Scraps gave a low chirp.

"Of course not."

Another big object slammed into the shipyard's hull, and Mala put her hand on the wall for support as the entire station tilted to one side. She pushed herself away from the wall and ran for her escape with all haste, hoping no one would notice her through the chaos.

"Halt!" Came a voice to her left.

Mala turned her head to see another squad of troopers running towards her, blasters pointed at her chest. She stopped and raised her hands.

"She's not ours, open fire!" The trooper sergeant yelled.

Mala closed her eyes as she waited for the heat of plasma to hit her body. She heard the sound of blaster fire, but no pain.

"Behind us, behind us!"

She opened her eyes and saw the squad was facing the other way, opening fire at the unseen attackers. Not wasting any time, she ran and slid for cover behind a pile of cargo boxes.

She listened as screams and blaster fire continued for a few more seconds before abruptly ending. Then silence. Then something else. The scraping and scurrying of dozens of armored feet. Mumbling in a language she didn't understand. A slow, ugly language of simple syllables, yet strangely graceful, as if it were an amalgamation of two vastly different languages.

The voices moved past her and continued into a distant hallway. She sighed with relief as the hall grew silent, save for the groans of a single surviving stormtrooper. How was she going to get past him? Her heart skipped a beat when the distance, a slow thud of heavy armored feet could be heard approaching. Something else was out there, beyond her small hiding spot. Something evil. Something unnatural. Mala felt a strange emptiness growing inside her, a boundless despair that coursed through her whole body.

"No, no, please no!"

Mala listened as the surviving stormtrooper begged for his life, right on the other side of her hiding place. The slow thud of those armored feet walked up to the trooper. There was a low buzz as some sort of energy blade activated, a whizz as the blade sliced through the air, then silence.

Mala listened as the stormtrooper's head hit the ground and rolled over to her. It stopped rolling by her feet and stared at her with its empty, plastic eyes. She could see the smoke rising from its neck through her night vision. She placed her hands over her mouth as her heart rate increased. Her heartbeat hammered in her chest, and she worried it was loud enough to be heard by the thing on the other side of the cargo containers. Then, the figure standing over her began to sniff.

Her despair grew as the sniffing grew louder, as if it was trying to smell her out. There was a metallic clank as a giant, armored hand rested itself on the boxes she hid behind. She slowly looked up as a black hood leaned over her. She prayed that the darkness hid her well enough in this blackened hallway, but something inside her told her it didn't. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably with tension as the metal hand reached for her.

"Open fire!" Screamed a stormtrooper's voice from the distance.

The creature's shriek was nothing Mala had heard before. It was high-pitched and unbearable to listen to. It sent pure fear coursing through her whole body, and she instinctively moved her hands from her mouth to her ears at the sound of it. The creature spun around as blaster fire peppered its cloaked body. The ominous hum of its blade filled the halls once again as it slowly glided towards the trooper squad. The screams of the stormtroopers erupted through the halls as the creature slaughtered them, one by one, seemingly untouched by the volleys of blaster fire that struck its body, over and over.

Without a second to waste, she jumped out from her hiding place and ran as fast as she could away from the slaughter. She ran through the hallways, past the corpses of troopers, officers, scientists and Yagai slaves that littered the floor.

She ran past another intersecting hallway. Through the smoke, she saw the silhouette of a massive, armored creature swing a giant spiked mace into a squad of troopers. She watched with horror as the blaster fire ricocheted off the creature's skin, and as the mace slammed into one trooper, crushing him instantly. The creature let out a deafening roar as it swung the mace into three other troopers. Seeing enough, she continued through the dark hallways.

Looking down at the bodies, she noticed another creature that lay among the dead. It was a short creature, armored with crude blackened plates of metal and armed with primitive-looking blasters and daggers. Its skin was dark and weathered as if it had never seen indoors its entire life. The scowl on its face was terrifying and grim, and Mala shuddered to look at it. The more she ran through the bloodied halls, the more of these creatures she saw.

"Abandon station! Repeat, abandon station!" Came the voice on the intercom.

Eventually, the halls went silent, and the station's defense cannons ceased firing. The red lights had stopped pulsing, and the station's only illumination came from the sparks of broken panels and computers that lined the walls.

Finally, Mala reached the airlock she snuck in from. She grabbed the enviro-suit she hid behind one of the nearby boxes and began to put it on. Her hands betrayed her as they shook with adrenaline. She tried to calm herself.

"Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. Slow is smooth…"

She flinched as a squad of troopers ran past the door, but they seemed so panicked and intent on escape that they didn't notice the red-skinned Twi'lek as she placed the helmet on her head. She entered the airlock and pressed the button.

"Kazz, I'm taking the shortcut. Come pick me up."

The decompression shot her into the vacuum with tremendous speed, blasting her far away from the shipyard. From this vantage, she could see the damage. The station was breaking apart in several places, and the debris from several Star Destroyers littered the space surrounding it. Strangely-shaped boarding craft were attached to the station. Their design was like nothing Mala had ever seen. They were long, cylindrical and black. Layers of spikes that were seemingly only cosmetic in design lined its hull.

A massive shadow flew overhead. She looked up and saw another, more massive craft fly past her. The gargantuan ship dwarfed the shipyard and seemed to follow the architecture of the boarding craft. It was black and ominous, shaped more like a fortress or a battlestation than a ship. The hull itself was covered with overlapping slabs of black iron, and armed with row upon row of laser and flak batteries, missile silos and hangar bays. Every crooked angle and decorative spike on the hull was unpleasant to look upon. Orange lights were intermittently shining from what might have been windows, or searchlights, but Mala didn't care much to speculate.

"Okay, Kazz. Get us the hell outta here." Mala said over her radio as she watched the massive ship obliterate what remained of the shipyard, picking off escape pods and shuttles that desperately tried to escape.

Within a few moments, a U-Wing appeared from the darkness of space and pulled up beside her. A familiar roar of her Wookiee pilot rang over the comms.

"I have no idea who they are, Kazz." Mala said, sighing with confusion as she spoke.

Another roar. She looked at the window and saw Shorkazza, pointing at the station.

"I guess it was a waste of time, buddy. Let's just get out of here, there's nothing we can do against that."

Mala grabbed the hull of the U-wing and entered the rear of the ship. After the cabin decompressed, she took off her suit and sat down in the co-pilot's seat.

Shorzakka gave a low moan. The two watched as the massive, dark ship bombarded the planet from orbit. Thousands of lasers and missiles erupted from the ship's hull, striking the surface of Yaga Minor. The surface began to glow as the sheer destruction shone through the planet's cloud cover. Mala held her hands tightly together, trying to stop them from shaking so violently. She cleared her throat and composed herself.

Shorkazza looked at her and gave a sympathetic grunt.

"I'll be fine, Kazz. We have to tell the Senator about this."


	2. The Ring's Journey

**Date: 0BBY**

***URGENT, INVASION IMMINENT,**

Enclosed in this document is a translation of a Numenorean Holocron we unearthed in the mines of Illum before we were evacuated from the planet, the reason for which was cited as 'overwhelming unknown enemy force'. We were forced to translate enroute, so certain words may be mistranslated or incorrect. That being said, this information is of the utmost importance for the defense of the Empire.

Begin translation to Galactic Basic:

Before the stars could form, before the universe was brought forth, there was life. Life beyond us. The One, The All High, The Father of All, sang the Ainur into his most purest embrace.

*Translator's Note: It is unclear what the equivalent Basic word for "Ainur" could be. It has been left untranslated. There is no reference to the exact name of this 'Father' figure. I would be hesitant to speculate.

Continue Translation: The Ainur saw the potential of the universe, and sang creation into being. The stars formed and reformed, creating galaxies and worlds. Fifteen Valar there were, who sang the songs of creation. The chords were beautiful, until the proud one, Melkor, sang in dissonance.

*Translator's Note: The act of singing may be a metaphor for the process by which these entities kickstarted the universe. Perhaps an allegory for the universal laws.

Continue Translation: From the dissonance, life came, imperfect and mortal, upon the dancing worlds of the Valar's song. The echoes rang through the universe, and echo still in all life. We can hear the echoes through the Masters of the Music.

*Translator's Note: The echoes of the song may refer to the force, references to these 'Masters of Music' are most likely referring to force-sensitives. Although, this could be argued, as other artifacts speak of a "Flame of Anor", which could also be a reference to the force.

Continue Translation: The one, the proud Melkor, shaped the song to balance those of the others. Even upon the birth of the Maiar, Melkor stood in solitude against their chorus. It was only when Tulkas the Champion descended into Eä did Melkor finally succumb.

*Translator's Note: Eä most likely translates to the universe, but I have left it untranslated for historical preservation of the language. The word 'Maiar' probably refers to some sort of angel servant species, but large pieces of information of the Valar's hierarchy is lost to time. Further efforts to find more holocrons has turned up nothing. These details may be lost forever.

Continue Translation: Soon, it was Melkor who had birthed Maiar from his own song, and with his lust for power, he placed his own divinity into the stones, into the stars, into the void, into life itself. Melkor was no more. Morgoth stood in his place. From his divine power, life learned evil, and with it came war, suffering and anger. Half of the echoes of the song itself had been turned black.

*Translator's Note: The black echoes are most likely a reference to the dark side.

Continue Translation: The Maiar who sang with Morgoth also learned evil, and their forms were corrupted. Annatar, the Giftbringer, the student of the smith of the Valar, became Sauron the Dark Deceiver, the Bringer of Sorrow. The universe learned fear from Morgoth. His armies came, and extinction followed. Morgoth had surrendered himself wholly to the undoing of the song itself. The universe cowered before his armies. It was only by the effort of all the Ainur and the Eldar that Morgoth was imprisoned in the void between worlds, but it was too late to repair the song.

*Translator's Note: Is it possible Morgoth is still out there, somewhere beyond the Galaxy? I shudder to imagine so.

Continue Translation: Sauron, most powerful of all the Maiar, was now free to claim the universe for himself. He took Morgoth's armies and began a war, not for destruction, but for conquest, for Sauron wished to rule over life, not undo it. Sauron, the student of Aulë the Smith, crafted many circles of control, and gifted them to the mortals of this galaxy. The Dark Smith cut a piece of himself away and hid it in his circle, to control the bearers of his gifts. Some recognized the deceit, and some were corrupted to Sauron's will.

*Translator's Note: These "circles" are most likely some sort of physical object, but due to our minimal understanding of the Numenorean language, the direct translation may be incorrect.

Continue Translation: It was only through alliance that the free peoples of the galaxy defeated the Deceiver. Sauron's form was destroyed, and his spirit taken from his world. The great Masters of the Music, the Jedi, have taken the ring to-

The data on the holocron has been corrupted past this point. It's a miracle we gathered anything from this millennia-old artifact at all.

The information on the holocron corresponds with the mountain of archeological evidence found all over the galaxy that the Battle of the Last Alliance is historical truth. I firmly believe that this sudden attack on Yaga Minor is further evidence that Sauron has returned.

Whether the Numenorean Myths are based entirely on fact is questionable, and whether Sauron is some form of god or angel is of little importance. The evidence exists, and now we are seeing history repeat itself. Now that the world of Illum has recently gone dark, we can safely assume that his forces have taken that planet, and are preparing to deploy into the Prefsbelt and Dantus Sectors.

This data is to be expedited to Coruscant. If Sauron is planning an invasion, this 'circle' that holds Sauron's lifeforce may be either a valuable tool against him, or a source of ransom for peace. Either way, I highly recommend that a search for this artifact must be authorized and implemented ASAP.

We must not repeat history by failing to act. We must not let Sauron gain a foothold in the galaxy. We must win.

For the Empire,

Colonel Caral Bole

Imperial Navy Linguist

This Document is classified Top Secret by the order of the Imperial Navy High Admiralty.

/

**Year: 9441 BBY, Battle of the Last Alliance**

**Planet: Mordor**

**Location: Base of Orodruin (Mount Doom)**

**Subject: Charon, Jedi Master, Pau'an**

With one last bout of strength, Charon took the Dagger of Mortis and slashed it wildly at the massive creature standing over him. The blade struck Sauron's hand, slicing away the finger that held the ring. The finger fell to the ground, and Sauron's body exploded in a blast of raw force energy, pushing back all the creatures that stood around him. Orcs, Humans, Alien peoples and Elves alike, all pushed to the ground by the blast. Sauron's armor crashed to the scorched ground with a metallic thud. All that remained of the dark Maiar's body was dust and smoke. Sauron, the enemy of the free peoples of the Galaxy, was defeated.

At the site of their defeated leader, the army of darkness fled from the battlefield. Droves of Orcs, Vong and a variety of other nameless creatures swarmed away into the mists of Mordor.

"It is done." Charon said, breathing heavily. He stood to his feet, placed the Dagger of Mortis on his belt and wiped the sweat from his grey brow.

Charon looked down at the dismembered finger of the Great Enemy. On its finger lay the ring, gold and glowing with strange writing. Charon knelt down and picked up the hand. The black armor and fabric held its integrity but for a moment before the wind blew it away like ashes after a wildfire. All that remained in his hand was the ring, upon which, the markings that shone brightly on the band began to fade until nothing of the writing could be seen.

"Let us climb the mountain, Charon. You know what must be done." Elrond said from behind.

Charon turned to his Eldar brother-in-arms and nodded. Elrond put away his vibroblade and followed the Jedi to the mountain in the distance.

Mordor's atmosphere was ash and smoke, nothing but the fumes of molten rock filled his lungs as he climbed the mountain.

"A wonder anything can live here. What compels these creatures to endure this world so readily?" Charon asked as he slowly scaled the mountain's treacherous trail.

"The dark side is a powerful influence on some creatures. His will was their will. They had no choice." Elrond explained. "In another universe, perhaps they could have been redeemed. You should understand the power of the dark side, more than most."

"The dark side can be a powerful tool, but dangerous...I pity them, poor bastards." Charon replied, letting out a cough as a cloud of black smoke wisped by them.

Charon looked down at the ring, at the small object that caused so much despair in the galaxy. Finally, this would be over. But, it was a pretty little thing, such a pity it would have to be destroyed.

The two entered the mountain through the massive archway, carved into the mountainside. Inside, they walked along the long bridge that led to the heart of the mountain. Charon reached the edge of the walkway and stared down into the magma below. The mountain shook and rumbled as the active magma below belched and roared at him, as if the planet begged him not to do what had to be done. He pulled out the ring from his pocket and held it over the pit.

"What are you waiting for?!" Elrond screamed over the roar of the mountain. "Cast it into the fire!"

Charon looked at the ring. Such a beautiful thing. Such a precious thing. The more he looked at it, the more he longed for it. The more he craved it. The more its power intrigued him.

"Charon!" Elrond roared. "Destroy it!"

Charon turned around to face the Eldar.

"No."

Elrond's face went cold as Charon placed the ring back into his pocket and moved away from the edge.

"Charon...I cannot let you take the ring." Elrond said, pulling out his vibroblade from its sheath. The elvish craftsmanship gleamed with the light of the fire below.

"Elrond...do not try to stop me." Charon said, pulling out his protosaber.

The two stared at each other for a while.

"Charon, don't make me do this."

"It's mine, old friend. You will have to pry it from my corpse."

Elrond charged the Jedi, and Charon charged the elf. The two blades clashed, vibroblade against protosaber. The two danced around each other, neither wanting to land a blow on the other, neither wanting to kill a longtime friend.

Charon held out his hand and focused on Elrond's neck. Elrond stopped breathing and dropped his blade to grab at his closed neck. Elrond's eyes grew wide as Charon smiled over him.

"I'm surprised you did not foresee this, Elf." Charon said cooly. "Is your connection to the force weakened in this place?"

Elrond could do nothing but gasp and try to grab at Charon, but Charon backed away. The Jedi walked around the neutralized elf and made his way to the exit. As soon as he made it out of the mountain, his hold on Elrond's neck ceased. Elrond dropped to the floor and gasped for air.

/

"Is it done?" One of Charon's lieutenants asked.

"It is done." Charon lied. "We leave for Republic space."

As his lieutenant radioed the Republic troopers to move out, Charon checked his pocket to make sure it was still there. The outline of a small ring could still be felt, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Charon's ship hovered overhead. As its gangplank lowered, Charon gave one last look at the small figure, just now scaling down the mountain.

"Goodbye, old friend." Charon said as he gave a wave.

Elrond just stood there and watched as Charon's shuttle flew out of sight, moving upward through the black cloud cover.

/

The flicker of hyperspace bounced off the glossy consoles of the Republic cruise as it flew for home. Charon sat in his captain's chair, flipping the ring around in his fingers and scanning its every surface. It almost seemed to speak to him, though not with words, but with feelings. Feelings of greatness and power. His vision was focused on getting to know every characteristic of its form.

"Master Charon?"

Charon grabbed the ring and pulled it toward himself as one of the ship's officers approached him.

"What is it, Commander?"

"We are approaching Coruscant. We will be there in thirty minutes."

"Very good, Commander."

The officer eyed Charon's hand, the hand that held the ring, then walked back to his station. Charon gave the officer a suspicious look, then slowly returned his gaze to the gold in his hand.

/

In the darkness of his room on Coruscant, Charon lay in his bed, ring held tightly in his hand. The doors to his quarters slid open, and a dark figure slithered into the room. The figure approached his bed and pulled a blade from their robes. They checked to see if Charon was asleep, then moved the blade over the Jedi master's heart.

"What are you doing?" Charon asked as his senses alerted him to the presence in his room.

Before Charon could wake fully and realize the danger, the blade plunged into his chest. His eyes went wide as he grabbed desperately at his assailant, but the blade had struck his heart, and he was dead within seconds. The robed figure removed his hood and opened Charon's limp fingers to reveal the ring. The ship's officer plucked the ring from his lord's hand and quietly left the room.

/

**Year: 6900 BBY, End of the Hundred Years of Darkness**

**Planet: Corbos**

**Location: Unnamed Mining City**

**Subject: Ajunta Pall, Dark Jedi Lord, Human**

Ajunta watched as the turbolaser rounds pounded into the surface of Corbos. Each hit wiped out dozens, perhaps hundreds of his forces. Mutated monsters and abominations of their dark research, all but wiped out in a few seconds of firepower.

"The battle is lost, Ajunta!" XoXaan screamed as she pulled her protosaber from a Republic trooper.

"Keep fighting!" Ajunta screamed as he leaped out of the way of a turbolaser blast. The laser hit the ground, the force of the shockwave knocking Ajunta through the air, ramming into a downed Republic space fighter.

Ajunta staggered to his feet and quickly checked his neck. The ring still holding on to the chain around his neck. Ajunta looked to the sky, at the barrage of turbolasers came down on them. He sighed quietly. Ajunta let go of his pride for one moment, and realized the doom they faced should they continue their futile campaign. The ring had to be saved, even if it meant defeat.

"Tell the remaining Dark Jedi to surrender. There will be no victory here…"

Ajunta deactivated his protosaber and ripped the ring from his neck.

"What will we do, Lord?" XoXaan asked.

Ajunta placed the ring in his mouth. He felt the cold metal slide down his throat, and into his stomach.

"We will go on. Forever." He replied.

/

**Year: 3956 BBY**

**Planet: Korriban**

**Location: Valley of the Dark Lords**

**Subject: Revan, Sith Lord, Human**

The massive doors to the old tomb opened, and Darth Revan stepped through the threshold. The tomb inside was dark and empty, and the walls were humble in their design. Should one have seen its basic architecture, they would have questioned whether this really was the tomb of the great Ajunta Pall, the first of the Sith. Revan approached the Sarcophagus in the middle of the darkly-lit room. As he lifted the great stone lid, a gust of dust and wind erupted from the opening in the sarcophagus. When Revan had uncovered his eyes, he was taken by surprise as the spirit of Ajunta hovered before him, translucent and grim.

"A...a Jedi? Here? Why did you come to this dark place? Why do you disturb my sleepless rest?" The spirit asked.

Revan could sense the confusion of this ancient spirit. Confusion and regret, and sadness.

"I am no Jedi, ancient one," Revan declared. "Legend tells you hide a source of great power, somewhere in your tomb."

"A...power...it has been so long since...I cannot remember…"

"Perhaps you will not mind if I investigate for myself." Revan said as he ripped the lid off of the Sarcophagus. The stone crashed to the ground, echoing through the great room.

"What are you doing?" Ajunta asked.

"I can feel it here, somewhere. It's so strong...I can feel its power." Revan whispered to himself.

"Traveller...you are a Sith? Has the Order lived on, all this time?"

"I have no time for small talk, spirit." Revan replied as he furiously shifted the ancient armor in the sarcophagus. "Come on, where is it?"

As he sifted through the bones and armor, Revan's eye caught the gleam of something small, shining in the dim light of the tomb. Revan reached his arm for the shiny object and pulled the ring from the corpse.

"I remember…" Ajunta's spirit said solemnly. "You do not want that object, young Sith."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Revan said, eyeing the small ring in his hand.

"You must listen!" Ajunta said urgently. "That ring will bring you nothing but pain and obsession!"

"This ring is a power source of unimaginable potency!" Revan replied. "I can feel it, even as I hold it in my hand...such a gift is wasted on a dead man."

"Do not waste your life on this ring! It will destroy you!" Ajunta called after Revan as the Sith Lord turned away from the sarcophagus and left the tomb.

/

**Year: 0 BBY**

**Planet: Florrum**

**Location: Doshar Fields**

**Subject: Pra'jiit, Jawa Scavenger**

"This stuff is old, no value." Hroth said as he rubbed his hand on the old hull of the crashed ship.

The symbol of the Brotherhood of Darkness, the outline of a sleek horned helmet, could barely be seen on the windswept metal. Jawas had little concern for the history or politics of the galaxy. The symbol meant little to the two as they scanned the ship up and down.

"All metal is valuable. Other uses." Pra'jiit replied as his plasma cutter sliced through the ship's airlock. "Check the engine."

The door to the airlock creaked as the plasma cutter detached it from the ship. Pra'jiit gasped and jumped out of the way as the door fell just where he was standing not half-a-second earlier.

"Careful!" Hroth said. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Pra'jiit said, brushing the sand off of his robes.

He checked his gas mask. The seal was still good. Very few creatures can survive the caustic environment of the Doshar fields. Catch yourself in the middle of an acid geyser field, you had better hope you chose the correct god.

Pra'jiit peered into the opening of the ship. It was dark, and the metal creaked as he stepped in. Bones of ancient warriors of millennia past littered the floor of the halls, which seemed to stretch much farther than he realized. Much of it must have been buried beneath the sand.

"Ship is big! Tell the others! Plenty of materials here!" Pra'jiit called out. "Armor and weapons too!"

"Droids?" Hroth asked as he popped his head into the doorway.

"Don't see any." Pra'jiit replied as he tip-toed over the corpses of the ship's crew.

He walked down the hallways, scanning for anything of particular value, until he reached what appeared to be the bridge. Sand had flowed in through the room's shattered windows, leaving much of the room buried. Pra'jiit sighed at the waste of such valuable computer systems, now useless after a thousand years of weathering by dust and sand. He scanned the room for anything to bring back, but all that popped out to him was the corpse that lay in the chair in the center of the room. Glass and metal shrapnel stuck in its skull and armor, and his jaw had long since fallen to the floor.

Pra'jiit approached the body. He looked at the corpse's belt and saw a strange cylindrical object that still had a faint shine to its surface. He picked it up and played around with the buttons. Suddenly, a bright red blade burst from one end of the object, which surprised Pra'jiit enough to jump. The lightsaber dropped from the Jawa's hand and hit the floor. The red blade sliced the skeleton in half as it fell. The cleaved skeleton fell to the floor, one half falling one way and the other falling the other way.

"Sorry…" Pra'jiit said quietly.

He looked at the red glow of the lightsaber on the floor. He picked up the lightsaber and gave it a swing or two, accidentally slicing the floor, and almost losing his grip on it. Realizing the blade was much too long for his height, he fiddled with the buttons until it turned off, then stuck it on his belt. At least one thing to bring back to the clan family.

He went to leave, but something caught his eye. Something shiny. He looked back to the corpse he sliced in half. A small gold ring was hanging from the body, attached by a single chain around its neck. As the little Jawa tried to remove the chain from the neck, the spine snapped, causing the skull to fall off its body and roll a foot or two.

"Sorry…again."

Pra'jiit looked at the ring in his hand. Its size seemed to shrink as he held it, until it seemed to be an exact fit for the Jawa's small hands.

"You find something?" Hroth asked as he entered the room.

"Yes. Gold!" Pra'jiit replied, holding up the ring.

Hroth looked at the ring. "Not much gold…"

"Also, found a weird red zappy sword." Pra'jiit said, pulling the lightsaber from his robes.

"Zappy sword? You make that up!"

"You sure?"

Pra'jiit pressed the button, and the red blade sprang to life. Hroth ooed and awed at the red glow and ominous hum.

"Zappy sword might sell for a lot! Never seen something like that before"

"What did you find?" Pra'jiit asked as he put away the lightsaber.

"Engine is still good, we bring clan family and strip the hyperdrive, too."

"Should leave anyway, almost nighttime." Pra'jiit replied, putting the ring in his robes with the lightsaber.

/

The Sandcrawler slowly trudged its way up to the site of the crashed ship. The platform lowered, and out walked a dozen Jawas, each equipped with some form of stripping tool.

"See? Lot's of materials!" Pra'jiit said, pointing at the buried Sith cruiser.

Engine is still good, hyperdrive still works." Hroth explained as the clan unloaded the crawler for the operation.

The Jawas got to work stripping the ship. The hull, the engine, everything of value.

Pra'jiit got to work on his section of the hull. He pulled his welding goggles over his eyes and ignited the cutter. He was so preoccupied with his work that he didn't notice a shadow looming over him.

"Good evening." Said a voice from behind.

Pra'jiit almost jumped fully into the air with surprise. He spun around and looked up to come face-to-face with a tall, slender humanoid. A mask covered the top half of her face, but there appeared to be no eye holes for her to see. She was adorned in black armor and a cloak of black fabric. Its armor was decorated with bands of red light and an imperial emblem on her chest plate.

"Who are you?" Pra'jiit asked.

"I am but a mere adventurer on a quest to find something very important to the Emperor." The female alien explained in smooth Jawanese. "Perhaps you, with your skills in discovering the lost and forgotten, could aid me in this quest."

"Credits, and maybe we can talk." Pra'jiit explained. He looked behind the Imperial, at the squad of Purge Troopers lined behind her.

"I believe you will find credits are not necessary in this discussion." The humanoid said calmly.

One of the Purge Troopers charged their weapons and shot a Jawa that was working on the engine. The Jawa screamed and fell to the ground, smoke pouring from the blaster wound in its back. The Jawas all turned from their work and started to whisper distressfully among themselves.

"There is something you have that I want." The alien explained, smiling politely at the Jawa standing in front of her. "Hand it over, and that Jawa will be the only casualty tonight."

Pra'jiit looked at the corpse of his brother in the distance. At the worried Jawas to his left and right.

"What do you want?" Pra'jiit asked.

"There is a ring made of gold. I have searched for it for a long time. I can sense its presence here. No doubt your small hands have already found it. Hand it over."

"We do not give things away." Pra'jiit explained stubbornly.

Another blaster shot. The Jawas began to scream and panic and tried to run for their Sandcrawler, only to be met with automatic blaster fire. In a few moments, the Jawas were all dead.

"One more time, perhaps." The alien said calmly, pulling out her lightsaber. The double blades sparked to life, lighting the sand with a red glow. "Where is the ring?"

Pra'jiit looked at the fallen Jawa's, littered on the ground. Unspeakable grief and anger overflowed within him. He pulled the lightsaber from his belt, activated the red blade and raised it against the masked alien. The inquisitor chuckled.

"A Jawa who wields a lightsaber? Truly, this galaxy continues to surprise me. It's an old design. I'm surprised it still works, really. No matter."

/

Pra'jiit's corpse lay on the ground, still smoldering from the lightsaber wounds. The inquisitor searched through the robes of the dead Jawa. Something metal touched her finger, and she reached further in. Her hands wrapped around the ring and ripped it from Pra'jiit's pocket.

"There you are, little one." The inquisitor said to herself.

She turned to her Purge Trooper squad.

"Move out. Back to the shuttle."

The inquisitor looked at the ring with a grin as the Purge Troopers moved out.

"What the Emperor wants with you is beyond curious. So much worry over such a small thing…"


	3. Whispers in the Dark

**Whispers in the Dark**

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Florrum**

**Location: Doshar Fields**

**Subject: Gandalf the Grey, Istari**

Gandalf strode across the desolate geyser fields, his feet scuffing up sand and dust as he trudged across the desert landscape. It was no coincidence that he was there, for he had felt the disturbance in the force of the Old Enemy here. Certainly not Him Himself, but it was by no means something not to investigate. Holding his staff against the gusts of sand that blocked his vision, he sealed himself in a small bubble of clean air, just enough to ensure his lungs could withstand this sulfurous atmosphere long enough to pursue this dark crack in the force.

Gandalf's feet stubbed into a metal pole sticking out from the sand. After exclaiming a small curse to the wind for blowing up so much sand, he bent over to inspect the metallic object protruding from the loose ground. He held out his hand to rub his fingers over the material. He felt the echoes that existed within.

Sith cruiser. So much death within its walls. The ring was here at some point, but it was impossible to tell when.

Galdalf thrust his staff into the wind, clearing the path before him further. In the far distance was a Sandcrawler, but it had not moved for days. Gandalf moved his way towards it, but his eyes caught a discoloured bump in the sand. He approached the object, only to find more of them strewn about.

"My dear creature. I am sorry I had not made it sooner…"

Gandalf rolled the dead Jawa over. Blaster marks riddled its figure. He held his hand to the Jawa's temple. He felt the force echoes enter his mind.

Visions of Death Troopers. Purge Troopers. In the distance, an Imperial Inquisitor. A red lightsaber. It struck another Jawa nearby. The Jawa struck was...holding a red lightsaber as well?

Gandalf rose to move to where the vision showed him. Another Jawa corpse lay half-buried in the sand, nearly sliced in half by one lightsaber wound. A lightsaber lay beside the poor creature. Gandalf held his hand to this Jawa's body.

The ring was here. The Inquisitor took it. The Order must be informed of this.

Immediately, Gandalf stood up. With no time to waste, and with an even more aggressive thrust of his staff into the air, the wind died down completely across the entire landscape. Eyeing the horizon, Gandalf spotted his ship, and quickly made his way back.

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Iridonia, Orbit**

**Location: The Incorruptible, Imperial-II Class Star Destroyer**

**Subject: Vanick Tarwin**

Vanick was alone in the cabin now. The other passengers were already dropped off at their designated postings, and he was the last one to disembark. He tensed as the old shuttle touched down in the Incorruptible's hangar. Not the smoothest landing, but it really never was with the old shuttles, despite the efforts of their mechanics and their pilots.

The gangplank came down. With a hiss of hydraulics and the creak of metal on metal, the lighting of the ship's massive hangar burst into the dark shuttle cabin. Vanick squinted as his eyes adjusted to the grey sterility of the Destroyer's Imperial architecture. He checked his rank plaque, his boots, made sure everything was worthy of a new ship Commander's deportment. Time to put on a good show for the men.

"Commander on deck!"

Vanick was met with a formation of white, polished stormtroopers, their stomp to attention echoing through the hangar. The room grew silent as Vanick approached the parade. The man in command approached the new Commander, exchanging salutes and shaking hands.

"Commander Tarwin, congratulations on your recent promotion." The man said. "Welcome to the Incorruptible. I am Lieutenant Commander Rojar Bosch, your Executive Officer."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander, I read the briefing on the way here. Surely you didn't put all this together for me?" Vanick asked cheekily.

"It's custom to greet the new CO with a parade." Bosch said sternly.

Vanick's grin sank into an equally serious frown. Clearly, Bosch was not a man for jest or pleasantries. Bosch. A man who looked like he had seen hell, and punched a few demons' faces off while he was there. He bore a scar across his cheek. His hair was just on the cusp of greying, and his uniform was much more immaculate than Vanick's own. Bosch's scowl rested on his face as though he were continuously being stabbed in the leg. He had the look of an Executive Officer, that was certain. A disciplinarian through-and-through.

"Very well. Let's conform to the custom, then." Vanick said grimly.

"Would you like to inspect the parade sir?" Bosch asked.

"You put all this effort in, I can't say no." Vanick replied.

"After this, perhaps a tour of the ship." Bosch said as the two inspected each trooper's uniform up and down.

"If it's designed like every other Imperial-Two class, then I'm sure just a visit to the bridge will be fine." Vanick replied. "I will conduct a meeting with the ship's departments tomorrow, if that suits you. I haven't quite acclimatized to the timezones here."

"It's custom for-"

"I'm sure they will all appreciate the extra time to clean their workspaces, don't you think?" Vanick interrupted the grizzled XO.

Bosch sighed. "Very well, sir."

/

"Commander on deck!"

The bridge fell silent as Vanick strode onto the bridge's command catwalk. He looked down at the officers below him in the work stations, all looking up at him as he made his way past them. They had the look of fear and nervousness in their eyes, as though Vanick was going to shoot one of them there and then. Vanick wondered who the last COmmander was for this garrison that made them so tense.

"As you were, gentlemen." Vanick said, trying to sound as personable as possible.

The officers' postures loosened as the command was given. Vanick felt the eyes of everyone on board eyeing him, squaring him up. I guess it was speech time. Vanick hated this part of the job. Public speaking was never his strong suit, and neither was speechwriting.

"Crew, I have heard from Lieutenant Commander Bosch that you all have been working hard, so I'll keep this short so we can carry on. I hope we can work together to make this planet a safe and hospitable place for both the Zabrak citizens and its garrison. We are a symbol of order and peace, I would like to see that we represent those values through our actions as Imperial Soldiers. Keep your uniforms clean, and keep your head in your duty, and you'll do right by me. Just because we're the garrison of a loyal world doesn't mean we can slack off. As you were."

The bridge crew turned back to their work. Vanick turned his eyes outward, looking through the bridge window to the planet below. The seas of orange acid, the continents of sand. At least it wasn't the front line. The single Star Destroyer glided in orbit, alone over the planet's surface, the only line of defence for the citizens below. That was his job now. Gone were the lax days of work on a transport freighter. This was a warship, designed to end uprisings wherever they flowered. Vanick ran through the principles of command in his head. The tactics. The maneuvers. He imagined what he would do if a rebel cruiser suddenly appeared on the radar.

"Sir." Bosch said, taking the Commander out of his daydream. "We have a lot to discuss about the situation below."

"What is it?"

"I have to brief you on the cult that's growing on the surface."

"A cult? Surely that would be easy to deal with."

"Not exactly. This is no normal rabble of crazies…"

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Iridonia**

**Location: Malidris Imperial Barracks**

**Subject: Marcos Rey**

Wookie body parts strewn across the forest. Screams of families being torn apart. Screams of Wookies being shredded by heavy gunnery. The electric hum of the slaver's tools of compliance. The burning smell of Wookie fur. A giant eye of flame.

I SEE YOU

Marcos shot up in bed. Cold dampness overtook his senses. His blankets were soaked, and so was he. Marcos slid his sweat-covered legs out of the covers and sat there for a moment. He closed his eyes.

1...2...3...breathe in…

Thoughts of home. The beaches of Spira. The honest work at the resorts there. Serving drinks, all those years ago. Calm...

1...2...3...breathe out…

Marcos opened his eyes, looked to the floor and grabbed the bottle of Zabrak wine that lay there. He checked how much was left, then placed it back into his bedside drawer. He stood up and made his way to the shower.

/

"You look like shit, Sergeant." Lieutenant Cull said eyeing the exhausted looking trooper at the other side of his desk.

"I look worse than I am." Marcos replied, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Same dreams?"

"Same ones. A little different this time. A giant eye showed up in the last one. Must be the damn cult messing with my head."

"Unfortunately, duty doesn't wait for us to be ready for it. Now, speaking of the cult..."

Lieutenant Cull. The current commander of the ground garrison on Iridonia. Much too comfortable in his position; too low-ranking to be chocked to death by an angry Darth for screwing up, too high-ranking to talk back to, and far too young to know what the hell he was doing. It's officers like him that made Marcos grind his teeth on more than one occasion. It's officers like Cull that get troopers dead, sacrificing men over their own humility. But most of these officers were born into rich families, and bought their way into their comfortable desk jobs. Hell, Marcos bet they were bred in a tube, designed to be incapable of admitting they could be wrong about anything. Spineless, without charisma, and without a concept of leadership. A waste of a nice uniform.

The Lieutenant pressed a button on his desk, and a blue hologram of the city opened up on the desk surface. The tiny buildings flickered as the map rotated slowly, showing every angle of the capital.

"This is the situation we're in. The Cult of the Eye, as they seem to call themselves, has grown exponentially in activity. From what we've gathered, there could be as many as two thousand of these fanatic scum out there somewhere, and it's getting worse every day. These are the sightings our patrols have gathered."

The city hologram began to shine with red dots in certain spots.

"These were the total reports done up for cult activity four days ago." Cullexplained, "And this,"

The Lieutenant pressed another button, and the red spots on the map began to multiply, first slowly, then quickly, until there were hundreds of spots littering the cityscape.

"This was the total number as of last night." Cull said quietly.

"I took the weekend off, and this happens? How did this escalate this quickly?" Marcos asked, staring at the hundreds of spots peppering the map.

"That's why you're here. We've received a message from the so-called leader of this cult, discussing terms of our surrender. I'm tasking the garrison to discuss the terms of theirs. Intelligence pinpoints the cult's HQ to be here."

A green point flashed onto the map. Surrounded by red dots. Dozens of them.

"That's smack dab in the slums." Marcos said, concern growing in his voice. "Sir, last time we went out there, it got ugly."

"Sergeant Rey, we are the Imperial garrison on this planet, it's your job to go out there and enforce order!" Cull said, clearly irritated by the backtalk. "I tasked your squad with reconnaissance of the HQ location. I want cameras on every helmet turned on, and I want them transmitting to me personally. You go in, record what you can, find out if the cult HQ is there, and get out. Easy as that."

"Sir, with all due respect," Marcos said, pointing to the map. "You know what happens when troopers go into the slums without vehicle support. I would like to request armored transport in case-"

"Denied. You will be at the coordinates no later than eleven-hundred hours…" Cullsaid, ignoring the Sergeants complaints.

Marcos looked at the map, at all the red dots surrounding the slum. "Sir, even if we could sign out a landspeeder to get my guys out out of there if-"

"Denied." Cullreplied coldly. "We need all vehicles ready to go, should a raid be authorized. Besides, it's a reconnaissance mission. You don't think that driving in there with a tank might arouse suspicion?"

"I said 'landspeeder', Sir." Marcos said slowly. "Not tank. Hell, just give us a damn speeder bike-"

"Sergeant, you are truly trying my patience. Now, you prep your guys to go out there, alone, by eleven-hundred hours, or you will find yourself charged for defying a lawful order. Clear?"

Marcos thought about complaining more, but he knew the Lieutenant, and he knew anymore attitude might just get him sent out there without...armor or something.

Marcos stood up from the desk and saluted, then quickly left the room, unclenching his teeth.

/

"I don't like this."

"Why are they sending us into the pit?"

"Because probe droids cost more to replace than we do..."

"Shut the fuck up." Marcos snapped. "You see them?"

The squad looked towards where Marcos was pointing. Two cloaked Zabraks on the balcony of an apartment building, watching them as they walked by.

"Turn off your external comms. Silent running from now on." Marcos ordered.

The squad continued to their patrol point. The city was strangely quiet as the eight troopers moved through the city.

"I'm getting the heebie-jeebies, sarge." Private Marsch commented.

"Yeah, it's a little too quiet out here. Something's up." Corporal Dyson added.

"Keep your heads on a swivel. We're approaching the coordinates. Everybody turn on your helm cams." Marcos ordered.

There was a beep in his helmet as Marcos switched on his camera. The streets were strangely empty as the troopers moved slowly through the broken-down neighborhood. The only sound was that of windows closing and the crying of the occasional child behind closed doors.

"I don't like this…" Terrik mumbled, giving an aggressive shrug, shifting the chaingun strap resting on his shoulder.

"Heads on a swivel and keep it together." Marcos whispered.

The squad turned the corner.

"What the-"

Before them stood several dozen cloaked Zabraks, quiet and still, just staring at them.

"What're you looking at?!" Corporal Terrik yelled across the empty street. The mob stayed quiet.

"Return to your homes, now!" Marcos ordered, pointing his rifle at the group.

The group remained still.

"Sarge?" Dyson asked quietly.

"What?"

"Behind us."

Marcos turned his head. Behind them was a wall of cloaks, suddenly blocking them off from their route back.

"I told him we needed a damn transport." Marcos cursed.

"Sarge, what do we do?" Marsch said, panic rising in his voice.

"Cull knew, he friggin' knew…" Dyson panicked, his head whipping back and forth.

"For fuck's sake, calm down." Marcos ordered.

"Tell that to the bodies we found." Dyson replied, his voice growing more panicked.

One of the cloaked figures broke from the mob and smoothly strode towards the squad. Marcos spun his rifle and aimed it at the oncoming cultist.

"Not one more step, Zabrak!" Marcos yelled, firing a warning shot into the air.

The Zabrak stopped and smiled, removing its hood from hiding its face. The symbol of the eye was freshly cut into his forehead, and blood was still dripping from the end of his nose.

"You have come, as he said you would." The Zabrak said. "Come. He is waiting."

"You don't give the orders here, alien. Tell your guys to disperse, now." Marcos said.

"Not until he sees you." The Zabrak replied.

"Sarge, there's a lot of 'em." Dyson whispered.

"Do we open fire? We gave them a warning shot already." Terrik added.

"You think you can kill them all before they reach you?" Marcos asked.

"It would be wise to obey." The Zabrak threatened as he smiled wildly at the surrounded troopers.

Marcos lowered his weapon.

Eight lives at risk here. Eight of his men, scared and panicked. Marcos thought to himself. He imagined what his old sergeant would've done in this scenario. Memories of Kashyyyk came flooding back. The needless deaths of so many good men, because it was either run forward and face the enemy's rifle, or run back and face the sergeant's pistol. Imperial doctrine be damned. Nothing came from dying in the streets of some desert planet. He would do whatever it took to get his guys out of there alive.

"Corporal Dyson, hold here 'till I get back. I'm taking Corporal Terrik with me. I'm going to meet with their leader. I will return in ten minutes. If I do not return in that time, try to return to base. If push comes to shove...do whatever it takes to get yourselves out of here."

"You got it, Sarge." Dyson replied nervously.

Marcos nodded to Terrik, then to the cultist. The Zabrak walked back towards the mob. The wall of cloaks split, revealing an open door behind them, leading into some abandoned living complex. Marcos led the way, Terrik nervously eyeing the cultists as they passed by the cloaked figures, each one of them Zabrak, each one horned and marked with that eye gouged into their forehead.

Marcos' helmet adjusted to the dim lighting of the building as he entered. A couple more cloaked figures. A few alters stood about the room, nothing more than pieces of dark iron welded together into the shape of that damn eye. Marcos continued to follow the Zabrak further into the building, until they came upon a larger room resembling the court of some demented king. A single skylight was the only illumination, save for the torches at either side of the ramshackle throne that sat on the other side of the room.

"My master bids thee welcome." Came a strange, guttural voice from the throne.

Marcos carefully approached the dark figure sitting on the throne. As he came closer, the details of its dark shape grew more apparent. It wore a black cloak which covered its entire body. Its hands were protected by gauntlets of black metal. Its helmet was made of overlapping sheets of steel and covered in strange writing that Marcos didn't recognize. On top of the helmet rested a wall of spikes, shaped much like a crown, and the helmet seemed to possess no eye holes for the creature's sight. By far the most upsetting feature of this creature was its mouth. A gaping maw, displaying gums that had long since receded from decay, and long, blackened teeth. Its lips and skin around its mouth had been surgically removed, carved into the shape of a star.

"You are but a simple soldier. What authority do you have to treat with me?" The creature asked, its mouth opening and closing with an exaggerated animation, as if it were controlled by some demonic puppeteer.

"I didn't come here to...um...treat. I didn't come for any trouble, I just want to leave peacefully, and ensure the safety of my men." Marcos replied. "You're the one behind this cult?"

"I am but a single emissary for the true master." The creature replied, smiling wildly. "Your Emperor sends little soldiers to waste his time...and mine."

Marcos didn't know what to say.

"Sarge, what are we doing here?" Terrik asked under his breath.

"How did you, I mean," Marcos started. "How did you convert so many so quick?"

"These?" The hooded creature asked, motioning towards the cloaked figures at the edge of the room. "They have simply awoken to the calling of their true master. Can you not hear Him? The songs He sings?"

The creature cocked its head, as if in a euphoric dream.

"These children of the Bringer of Gifts only follow their instinct; to heed the call. Soon, this world will be his."

"Whose?" Marcos asked, nervously.

"You will see." The creature replied, giving another cheeky smile with its massive mouth, before quickly dropping into a scowl. "Your Emperor has denied my master's request for treaty. You are useless to me. We shall return you to your people."

"Great, perfect. I'll put in a report and they'll get an ambassador in here. You let me and my guys walk out of here, and we'll set something up for you. Don't call us, we'll call you." Marcos said, quickly turning towards the door. He was ready to leave as fast as possible. The smell in there was starting to irk him.

As he turned, three cultists moved to block the exit, knives in hand.

"My master did not say you would be returned alive." The creature announced. "Your Emperor offends us with his silence, so we will give him a message. What do you know of pain, little soldier?"

"I know enough." Marcos said, quickly charging his rifle and shooting a volley at the throne.

The bolts hit the creature in the arm and shoulder, and it let out a shriek. Suddenly, the room was alive with cloaks and faces. Marcos quickly realized how many cultists were actually in this room, hiding in the dark corners and hidden doors.

"Ah, Shit. Terrik!" Marcos roared.

The sound of chaingun fire erupted in the large room. Shrieks of Zabraks being mowed down filled the troopers' ears as they backed their way towards the exit. Marcos turned and charged into the Zabraks blocking the exit. He pointed his rifle as he ran, letting off a couple rounds. Two rounds hit, one missed. With no time to waste, Marcos shouldered the remaining Zabrak into the wall and pulled the combat knife from his hip. Two quick stabs into the Zabrak, and it was dead.

Marcos sprinted down the hall, not wanting to check behind him to see how many were behind.

"Corporal, you still with me?" He asked over the comms.

"Right behind you!" Terrik replied, clearly out of breath.

Marcos burst through the door to the outside, opening fire at every Zabrak he could see through the brightness of the sunlit streets.

"Dyson, do you read?" Marcos asked. "Dyson!"

Chaingun fire once again erupted behind Marcos as he ran, but was abruptly stopped. The sound of Terrik screaming filled the comms as the cultists overtook the two troopers. The chaingun fired a few more rounds into the ceiling before abruptly ceasing fire.

From behind, Marcos felt hands grab onto him, and he was tackled to the ground. The intense burn of a knife plunging into his lower back forced a scream out of him. He reached behind him to grab for the cultist that stabbed him. Feeling the distinctive horns of the Zabrak's head, he spun his rifle in his other hand, awkwardly pointed the barrel behind him and fired three rounds. The Zabrak's body went limp as the rounds cauterized its brain. Marcos rolled onto his back only to come face-to-face with several Zabrak faces looking down at him, each brandishing some form of weapon. Some were rusty farming tools, some were knives, some were ceremonial heirlooms, but all would hurt going in.

"Come on, then!" Marcos roared.

Just as Marcos aimed his rifle upwards to take a few with him, a massive green blaster bolt hit the building behind him. Marcos and the surrounding Zabraks were pelted with debris and dust. With the cultists confused and distracted, Marcos started firing furiously into the creatures that stood above him. In the confusion, the cultists backed off and scampered into the dust and smoke. Marcos stood up just in time to watch as a TIE fighter came zooming overhead. The fighter's scream blew past him, followed by another blast, and a second TIE's signature scream blasted overhead. Marcos fell to the ground again as the second strafe barely missed him.

"TIE GH-423 to Recce Squad, you are clear to evac, repeat, you are clear to evac, enemy is scattering." Came a TIE pilot's voice into Marcos' helmet.

Marcos wasted no time and got to his feet. Using what strength remained in his legs, he limped quickly away from the scene. Four kilometers between him and the garrison's gate. A Zabrak cult behind him. A stab wound to his kidney. He'd been through worse, but not by much.

Where was his squad?

"Dyson, Terrik, anybody, do you copy?" Marcos grunted as he limped through the streets. Another volley of green blaster fire from the TIE's shot overhead, shooting more smoke and dust into the air. Marcos had no idea if the cult was behind him or not, and he wasn't about to stop to find out.

"Sarge, is that you?" Private Marsch' voice came over the radio.

"Marsch? Where are you!"

"The Zabraks have gone crazy, sarge! They...they ripped Dyson apart in front of me!"

"Get your ass back to base, do you hear me?!"

"Will do sarge! I'm on my-"

Another TIE screamed overhead, sending another volley of green into the ground below. The radio went silent.

"Marsch...Marsch!"

The radio was silent for the next ten minutes. Marcos staggered through the empty streets as another squadron of TIE's blasted overhead. Screams of citizens filled the streets as Marcos limped through the city. He was losing blood pretty fast. He wondered how many kilometers he had left in him. He ripped off his helmet to breathe. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the face of a Zabrak, and out of panic, shot a round in its direction. He turned his head to see a female and child cowering behind a market cart.

"Stay back!" Marcos roared as he staggered past the terrified Zabrak citizens. He limped another block, and suddenly the familiar rumble of armored transports shook the ground in front of him. It looked like the entire garrison was mobilized as columns of troopers and armored vehicles filled the street.

Marcos passed the convoy of troopers and tanks as they moved past him.

"Sergeant Rey!" Came Lieutenant Cull's voice.

Up walked the officer, dressed in battle armor, carrying a small blaster pistol.

"Good work, Sergeant, your cam feed was more than enough to authorize the raid. This cult won't know what hit them."

"You…" Marcos grumbled. "You got every one of them killed…"

"Sergeant, your men did their job with honour, now join up with Charlie Company, get some bacta on that wound, and get back in there!" Cull yelled over the roar of the convoy.

"You sent us there to die!" Marcos roared, throwing a left hook into Cull's face.

Cull staggered back and brought a gloved hand to his cheek. Marcos felt hands immediately tackle him to the ground. The sound of rifles charging surrounded him as he was pushed face-first into the sand.

"In any other situation, I would have you shot right here for assaulting an officer." Cull said, spitting blood from his mouth. "But why waste an example? Corporal, I want this man on the first shuttle to the Incorruptible. Put him in Detention Block Alpha."

Marcos was pulled to his feet to come face to face with Cul.

"You will spend a few hours in the interrogation chair. Your whimpers will be broadcast to the garrison, and then you will be shot into space. Then, maybe you'll learn about how expendable you and your men truly are. Get him out of my sight."

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Yavin 4**

**Location: Base One**

**Subject: Mala Pong**

"You see why I brought her straight to you, Senator."

"I do see, thank you General. This is extremely troubling. Keep going Mala, don't spare any details."

Mothma leaned forward as she spoke, her face expressing only worry and confusion. Mala avoided eye contact with the high-ranking officials that stood around her, the only thing lighting their grim faces coming from the war table and from the green grid lines on the transparent walls around them.

"There isn't much else to tell," Mala explained quietly. "Except…"

"Take your time, child. Every ounce of information is of the utmost importance." Mothma reassured.

Mala tried to collect her thoughts on her experience.

"There was...a creature, not like the others, it wasn't like anything I'd ever seen."

"Explain."

"It was dressed in all black, and its face was covered in shadow, I didn't see what it was, but I felt...I knew that it wasn't...natural."

Mothma raised an eyebrow. "Was it not organic?"

"I couldn't tell, but no natural humanoid gets hit by three-dozen blaster rounds and keeps fighting. It didn't even flinch."

The surrounding council all shifted in their seats as if they knew something Mala didn't.

"This creature...did it smell you?" Came a stern but smooth voice from the crowd around her. Mala turned to see who spoke out. It was a man of slender build. His long black hair fell well past his shoulders, and an unusual silver crown sat on his brow, which was no more than interwoven strings of decorative metal around his head. His robes were strangely elaborate for a rebel, even for a senator.

"It...sniffed at me, I think, at least that's what it sounded like." Mala confirmed. "How did-"

"Your story corroborates his." Mothma stated. "This is Elrond of the Eldar species."

"Who?" Mala asked, having never heard of that species in her life.

"It is good to meet you, Twi'lek." The man stepped forward and gave Mala a subtle nod of his head. He pointed ears poked out of his flowing hair for a moment.

"It is as we feared." Elrond stated before the assembled rebel command. "An enemy far worse than the Empire is at our doorstep."

"Sorry, Eldar?" Mala asked again.

"Lord Elrond, we can barely fight one war, let alone two." Mothma stated. "The Empire's superweapon has already destroyed Alderaan, and now it's coming for us. That is what's at our doorstep. Now you tell me something worse is on the way. We cannot do it alone. We need your knowledge and your resources."

Elrond turned to Mothma.

"Were it so easy." He replied curtly.

"Mala, you are dismissed." Mothma ordered sternly. "We have private matters to discuss."

Mala gave a quick salute and left the room. The door closed behind her to the sounds of fiery discussion between the senators and the strange man with pointed ears. Shorkazza was waiting in the hallway. He gave a concerned growl as she passed by.

"It's up to them now, buddy." She replied. "But it sounds like we have bigger issues to worry about at the moment."

As she spoke, the intercom shattered the silence of the hallways.

"ALERT. THE DEATH STAR IS IN ORBIT. GOLD SQUADRON, SCRAMBLE. RED SQUADRON, SCRAMBLE."

"Here we go. Better go see what we can do to help. C'mon, Kazz." Mala said as she began to run for the hangars.

Shorkazza let out a confused grunt.

"I dunno, maybe they'll need us to sweep something. I'm just not sitting on my ass while there are boys out there fighting!"


	4. The Board is Set, the Pieces are Moving

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Coruscant**

**Location: The Imperial Palace**

**Subject: Anakin Skywalker, Human, Male, Alias: Darth Vader**

Vader waited outside the heavy, black doors to his master's throne room. As he waited, his eyes scanned the darkness of the hallways around him. The elegance and history of the Jedi order had long ago been stripped away. Where once stood statues of the greatest heroes of the order, there now stood nothing but bare walls and imperial banners. The glimmer and polish of the republic was all but scraped away, leaving nothing but darkened hallways and the dim glow of the scarce lighting. Since the dismissal of the senate, the massive corridors of the palace had grown empty, save for the occasional scurry of the odd imperial officer or government worker that dared leave their office. Vader could hardly remember the days when children scurried through these halls, enthusiastic for their next lesson in the wonders of their order.

Another wail of the purest agony erupted from behind the door. The screams continued for a second or two more before abruptly cutting short. Vader turned his armored body towards the door as it opened. Two Red Guard shuffled out, carrying a stretcher with the body of what used to be an Imperial Admiral. Vader never bothered to learn this particular admiral's name, and as well he didn't. The stretcher passed Vader quickly, giving him only a glancing view of the twisted, charred corpse. Fingers broken backward, legs bent where they shouldn't be. The shape of ribs poking through the Admiral's tunic. Signs of electrical burns. Vader's suit alerted him to the presence of smoke in the room, just as the corpse passed him.

"Enter." The Emperor's voice cracked through the silence.

Vader strode into the red-tinted room. Great circular windows revealing the cityscape of Coruscant provided some light, but not much at this late hour. The room was not any more decorated than any other part of the palace, only decorated with electronic braziers on either side of the long path up to the throne. Red Guard eyes followed Vader closely as the thud of his boots echoed through the empty room.

Palpatine's throne sat on a platform, accessible only by way of a bridge that sat over a seemingly bottomless pit. It was a long drop from the top of the main spire to the bottom, and many officers had met their end this way for disappointing the Emperor. It was dramatic, to drop a body a hundred floors to the floor below, but it was effective. The smeared body of the failed officer, crushed by the fall against the stone ground, always seemed to increase productivity for the next week or so.

Vader approached the throne, upon which sat the cloaked silhouette of his master. He halted and took a knee.

"What is thy bid-"

"I have just been informed by the late Admiral Shaw that the Death Star was destroyed." Palpatine interrupted quietly, the darkness of the room hiding his expression under the great hood draped over his face.

"Master-"

"The accumulation of decades of work, started years before the end of the Clone Wars, the millions of soldiers and hundreds of thousands of pilots, officers and scientists, all done away by one single...rebel pilot."

"He was-"

"I do not care who he was!" Palpatine snapped. "Whether he was a man or a god, I do not care! There is no excuse for the complete lack of competence you and Tarkin both have shown me."

"Master," Vader started, "The rebel was strong in the force. I will not underestimate the Rebellion's capabilities again."

"No. You will not." Palpatine scorned. "You have shown me you cannot be trusted with the rebellion's extermination. That battle station was our one hope against the enemy I have foreseen, and now what I have foreseen has come to pass. You are to go to Yaga Minor and take command of the forces there."

Vader hesitated for a moment. "Yaga Minor is taken, my lord. It was taken days ago. Surely you were informed."

"Then retake it!" Palpatine snapped. "Not a single world will fall to this enemy beyond the void. Nothing can stand before the might of the Sith and my glorious Empire! This foolish invader must be smitten down before the galaxy is even aware of his pathetic invasion."

"Yes, my master." Vader replied reluctantly.

Vader stood up, and left the room. The door shut, leaving Palpatine alone, surrounded by his Red Guard.

"Leave me." Palpatine ordered.

The Guard complement promptly all bowed in unison, then silently left the room. Palpatine waited until he was alone, the darkness of the chamber only equaled by its silence. He pressed a button on his throne. There was a low beep, and a panel on the armrest opened, revealing a strange black sphere with blue-grey streaks across its surface. He raised his hand and hovered it over the sphere. As he did so, his eyes closed, and a dim red glow began to emanate from the surface of the orb.

"Fool, your attempts at intimidation fall on deaf ears." Palpatine sneered. "All you have done is reveal your plans to me...your forces are nothing compared to mine. I will crush them like I did the Jedi. Soon, I will have your ring, and your powers will be mine."

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Ship: The Flayer, Inquisitorial Shuttle**

**Route: En Route to Coruscant**

**Subject: Thirteenth Sister, Miraluka, Female**

The Thirteenth Sister sat in her quarters, feeling the ring in her hands. Never before had she felt such a strength in the dark side as this piece of jewelry, and it felt good to flip it in between her fingers, over and over. She could feel the ripples in the force with each flip. Such a powerful thing, such a little thing.

She imagined what the Emperor could do with such an object. For all she knew, perhaps he could realign the stars themselves to suit his needs through it. She imagined putting it on, feeling the power course through her body, feeling the sheer connection to the force it would bring her. Then she thought of the punishment she would receive should Palpatine find out she disobeyed the order to never put it on.

But surely, should she wear such a ring, there would be nothing Sheev could do against her. Not if she put it on and used it against him. Could she wield it? Would she implode from the power? Could she really hand over this ring to the likes of the Emperor? Too many questions flowed through her mind, and yet, she already knew the answer. That old fool was truly losing his wits if he believed she would willingly give him such a precious thing.

No. Palpatine must never get his wrinkled hands on it. It was hers. It was hers by right! She slew that pathetic Jawa. She plucked it from the alien's filthy body. She felt her hands moving into position to place the ring on her finger, and she felt sheer ecstasy at the thought of putting it on.

A knock from her door knocked her out of her trance. She stood up and impatiently opened the door, revealing the Purge Trooper behind it.

"What?! What is it?!" She snapped.

"We are approaching Coruscant, my glorious inquisitor." Announced the purge trooper.

The Thirteenth Sister looked down at the ring.

"There has been a change in plan." She said, hiding the ring behind her back. "Our mighty and powerful Emperor wishes the artifact to remain stationed at Nur for further research."

"The bridge hasn't received any communications from the Palace about this." The trooper replied suspiciously.

The Thirteenth Sister raised her arm. There was a thud and a grunt as the purge trooper was forced against the ceiling. The inquisitor pinched her fingers together, then waited a few seconds. Suffocation is an art. Release too early, your point doesn't get made. Too late, and you risk killing your victim. For the fool to realize, this is the end, this is how they die, and there is no hope for release, only for their throat to open once again, and for the air to rush into their burning lungs; that is the sweet spot. Proper technique in the art of suffocation can crumble empires.

"You dare defy my orders, trooper?" The sister asked as the trooper writhed on the ceiling.

The choking noises continued. The trooper's entire body strained as it desperately tried to squeeze air through his crushed windpipe.

"Good." She said, releasing her hold on the trooper's neck.

The trooper fell to the ground and immediately began to cough violently. The inquisitor shut the door to her quarters, ignoring the trooper's gasps for air. The sister sat down and returned her attention to the ring. Her index finger stretched involuntarily towards the thin strip of gold. As the metal touched her finger, she felt a surge of dark force energy enter her through her hand. Suddenly, even though she couldn't see it, she knew her room was somehow changed, or perhaps she was what had changed. A strange feeling crept up her back, as if something sinister and cruel was watching her, far beyond the safety of her room.

INQUISITOR

The voice in her head shook her skull.

THE VALAR HAVE DESERTED YOU ALL. THERE IS NO HOPE FOR-

Immediately, she ripped the ring from her finger. The invisible overseer was gone, but something told her she had made a grave mistake. She threw it across the room and told herself to not put it on again. She knew she should not. And yet...

/

Year: 0BBY

Planet: Yaga Minor

Location: Unknown Battlefield

Subject: The Witch-King of Angmar

The Witch-King sat on his fell beast and looked over the silent battlefield. A sea of stormtroopers, their armor once white and polished, now all lay half-buried in the blood-soaked mud. The burning carcasses of downed TIE fighters and overturned ATST's filled the air with smoke and ash. Overhead, the rain of Star Destroyer debris lit the sky, as though caught in the midst of a brilliant meteor shower. Ash rained down like the first snow of winter. Orcs scampered across the field, scanning the bodies for survivors, and eating the dead. What imperials did survive were dragged before the Witch King. Their screams and cries for mercy fell on deaf ears as they were rounded up. Most looked at the Witch King's steed and became too fearful to speak.

"Get in line, maggots!" An Orc Taskmaster screamed, flicking his whip into the straggling imperials.

The whimpers of pain sent a wave of laughter from the orcs as they surrounded the captives. The occasional bolt from an orc blaster flew into the air, provoking further orcish laughter as the imperials flinched with every shot.

"What now?" Khamul asked

"This Empire is weak, just as all men are weak." The Witch-King hissed. "Their bodies are easily turned against them. Just as it was with the Dunedain, so shall it be with these Imperials."

"They are unwilling. Will the spell work?" Khamul questioned.

"Thralls need not be willing." The Witch-King replied.

Khamul nodded. "Bring them." He whispered to a Black Numenorean behind him.

The Numenorean bowed and blew his horn, and soon, a company of men, dressed in intricate robes, their heads all shaved to the skin and their eyes cold and soulless, appeared from the smoke. The sorcerers moved into position around the prisoners and began to chant in unknown tongues.

The imperials all looked at each other in confusion as the sorcerers' chant grew louder and faster. Their voices began to carry over the silent battlefield.

"What's happening to me?" A stormtrooper asked, staring down at his hand. His skin was wrinkling and withering away.

"Me too!" Another whimpered.

"Your bodies will fuel the plague that will spread across your Empire." The Witch-King hissed over the confusion. "Die knowing you have doomed your galaxy to its fate."

Soon, the crowd of imperials were all screaming as their life force slowly drained from their bodies by the chants of the Numernoreans. Skin turned to dust, eyes shrank away from dehydration, hair turned grey and fell out, and muscles receded to reveal the bones underneath. Slowly, the screams faded into weakened croaks, then to nothing. There was a wave of dark force energy, then silence. The petrified husks of dust that once were prisoners sat deathly still, frozen in the position. They're mouths wide open, trying to let out screams that would never be. A gust of wind blew across the field, breaking apart the prisoner's bodies layer by layer until nothing remained. The Witch-King watched as the dust blew away with the wind until it was indistinguishable from the ash that fell from the clouds.

"Soon, the galaxy will be ripe for conquest." The Witch-King whispered to his Lieutenant. "The end has come, and the Empire will be too weak to stop it."

Suddenly, the two ringwraiths shot their attention to the sky. Someone had put on the ring, and the scent was fresh. The two looked at each other, then with an inhuman shriek, urged their fell beasts to take to the sky and flew with all haste towards their ship.

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Isen III**

**Location: Orthanc**

**Subject: Gandalf the Grey**

Gandalf blinked as he jumped into realspace. His old Naboo Starskiff, gifted to him by Queen Soruna during the Jedi Purge, now had long lost its polished metal shine. The old ship groaned and creaked as its hull readjusted to normal space speeds. Gandalf chuckled and patted the control panel.

"There, there, old girl. You're starting to sound as old as I am." He whispered to the cabin around him.

Before him rose the shadow of the massive fortress, which was the subject of his visit to this system. Orthanc, the ancient Dunedain station now long abandoned by its creators. Within that massive silhouette of impenetrable black steel once housed thousands of noble warriors. The Arnor Kingdoms fell, all those millennia ago, and now the leader of the White Council, Saruman the White, called the battle station home.

The shadow of the orbital fortress loomed over Gandalf's single-pilot ship, and for the first time in his many visits to this station, he suddenly felt ill-at-ease. The great black walls of the station no longer held an aura of a once-powerful empire. Now, they seemed...ominous. Wrong.

Gandalf ignored the feeling. He had more pressing matters to attend to than the heebie-jeebies brought on by ancient architecture. One of the station's many gates slowly unsealed itself to allow the tiny ship inside. Gandalf's unease settled slightly as his ship entered through the gate. As soon as his ship passed through the atmospheric shields and his eyes adjusted to the interior lighting, the familiar sights of Orthanc came into view. The great hangars of the station allowed for great forests and gardens to grow freely, under the watchful eye of the White Wizard. Gandalf landed and stepped out of his craft, placing his feet on the platform. He breathed in the fresh air provided by the vegetation that covered the walls and floor of the hangar and sighed. A few hours stuck in a cockpit is stifling, and it was good to feel his knees again.

"Smoke rises from the Mountain of Doom…" A voice echoed over the intercoms. "The hour grows late, and Gandalf the Grey Lands at Isengard, seeking my council."

Gandalf looked to the far side of the hangar. There, stepping casually down a flight of stairs from the upper levels, approached Saruman the White, whose robes were unusually weathered for the White Wizard's normal liking. Hints of dark dirt stains crept from the corners and edges of his intricately-adorned cloak, but his hair was straight as it had always been, and Gandalf didn't give much pause for the deportment of his superior.

"For that is why you have come, is it not? My old friend…" Saruman continued, approaching Gandalf with the usual swagger of pride he commonly displayed.

"Saruman." Gandalf replied, giving a bow of respect.

"Tell me, what could possibly coerce you to seek my council?" Saruman asked. "Surely it must be grave if the great Gandalf the Grey has left the comfort of his hermitage on Lah'mu, entertaining Human children with his fireworks, to visit me."

"It is of grave importance." Gandalf said urgently.

"Come, then." Saruman ushered, holding his arm out to guide Gandalf down the halls. "Walk with me."

/

"You are certain of this?" Saruman asked as the two wandered through the endless halls of Orthanc's catacombs.

Trees and vines covered the walls, and any semblance of what was once a battle station had now been all but replaced by nature's bounty. Broad-spectrum lighting allowed the vegetation the proper light to grow far into the depths of the black halls of the orbital station. Droids hovered through the hallways, tending to the plantlife, cleaning leaves as they fell and watering the roots that grew their way across the walls. Gandalf enjoyed the smells of the flowers and the trees, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread he felt as he walked through the halls beside Saruman.

"Beyond a doubt." Gandalf replied finally to Saruman's question. "No other artifact could leave such a force presence."

Saruman's brows furrowed.

"In the hands of an Inquisitor, no less." The White Wizard mumbled. "And yet, you did not follow them?"

"I thought it unwise to wander too close to Coruscant, and I believe that is their path." Gandalf mentioned. "The Jedi were foolish enough to underestimate Palpatine. We should not."

"The Jedi were mortals." Saruman stated. "Surely you are not afraid of an aging Sith and his crippled hound?"

"The only way we are to retrieve that ring is with help." Gandalf argued. "The rebellion has shown resilience to the Empire's evil. Perhaps if we-"

"The rebellion?" Saruman scoffed. "Your great plan to save this galaxy is to recruit...farmers and smugglers?"

"The Empire will provide a buffer between us and Mordor." Gandalf explained. "This will give us time to organize, retrieve the ring and destroy it."

"Time?!" Saruman exclaimed. "What time do you think we have?"

/

Saruman sat down in his chair. His study was lit only with candles and a single white light hanging over their heads and seemed too dimly lit for a place of research. Books and manuscripts of the ancient world covered every surface, and holocrons sat piled in the corners of the black room.

"Sauron has regained much of his former strength," Saruman explained as he leaned towards Gandalf. "He cannot yet retake physical form, but his spirit has lost none of its potency."

Gandalf took a sip of the wine his host had presented him and listened on.

"Concealed within his fortress, the Dark Lord sees all." Saruman continued. "His connection to his servants provides him with billions of eyes across the galaxy. Already, his influence has begun to pierce the minds of the galactic population. Cults will spring from his influence. Nightmares will beget madness, and the people will crumble before his will."

"Surely Sauron cannot match the military might of the Empire. Not with Orcs and Trolls." Gandalf noted.

"There are many ways to win wars." Saruman sighed. "The Witch King is already here. He has sent a great plague across the stars. Within the decade, the galaxy will be too frail to fight. And Sauron can wait. He has waited for so long already."

"The Witch King?" Gandalf exclaimed.

"And Khamul. Sauron has gathered more than Orcs and Trolls to his banner. All evil will join him with time. Humans, Zabrak, Vong and even the mighty Sith will eventually succumb to his will. Sauron will gather an armada large enough to assault the entire Galaxy with one fell swoop. By then, The Empire will be too weak to respond."

"You know this?" Gandalf asked. "How?"

Saruman cocked his head to the unlit room in the distance. "I have seen it."

/

"A Palantir is a dangerous tool, Saruman."

Gandalf briskly strode towards the pillar in the middle of the empty room. A cloth draped over something that sat on its top. Gandalf eyed the spherical object that sat underneath the cloth. That feeling of dread had now grown much stronger.

"Why? Why should we fear to use it?" Saruman asked, ripping the cloth from the pillar, revealing the smooth stone surface of the palantir. Whispers of something dark emitted from its core.

"They are not all accounted for, the lost seeing stones." Gandalf fretted. "We do not know who may be watching."

Gandalf replaced the cloth over the stone. As his hand touched the stone. The eye of flame suddenly filled his vision. He ripped his hand from the stone and gave Saruman a look of confusion.

"The hour is later than you think." Saruman stated. "Sauron's forces are already moving."

Saruman slid to his throne in the corner of the room, leaned his staff next to him and sat down.

"Yaga Minor has already been taken." Saruman explained. "The Imperial shipyards there have been decimated. The Lieutenant of Barad Dur has taken Iridonia, and the Sith Emperor's armies are unprepared to defend against Him. It is only a matter of time before the ring finds its way to its master."

"Then we must act quickly!" Gandalf exclaimed, quickly turning to leave for the hangar bay.

Saruman sneered, but then sat deep in thought for a moment.

"Gandalf!" Saruman called after him.

Gandalf stopped and turned around.

"When you find the Ring, bring it to Orthanc. I will assemble the White Council, and we shall decide what is to be done with the ring."

Gandalf looked into Saruman's eyes for a moment, then nodded. "You could join me."

Saruman raised an eyebrow. "I have preparations to make for the wars to come. Surely Gandalf the Grey can find allies to aid him."

Gandalf sighed, then gave a nod and headed for the exit. Saruman activated a holoscreen on his throne and watched as Gandalf's Starskiff left the station. Saruman sneered, then pressed another button. A small hologram of a Kaminoan appeared in his armchair.

"Did he see you?" Saruman asked the hologram.

"No, Master Istari. The wizard was oblivious to our presence." The Kaminoan replied.

"Excellent. I want this station prepared for war within the fortnight. When shall the pods be ready for cloning?"

"They will be ready for full production in four days." The Kaminoan answered.

"Very good. See me for payment when your task is complete."

/

Gandalf could barely concentrate on navigation as he lined himself up for hyperspace travel. There was something very wrong with Saruman. He sensed it. At least, he sensed that Saruman was blocking him from sensing his true intentions. What did the White Wizard have to hide from his oldest friend? How did he know so much about Sauron's intentions? One thing was certain: The Ring, if found, must not go to Orthanc.

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Iridonia, Orbit**

**Location: Officer's Briefing Room, The Incorruptible**

**Subject: Commander Vanick Tarwin**

"Come." Vanick ordered after a buzz came from the door.

The door whooshed open, and Lieutenant Commander Bosch strutted into the room.

"Good morning, XO," Vanick said as his second-in-command approached him.

"Morning, sir." Bosch replied curtly.

"What fresh hell do we have to tend to today?" Vanick sighed.

Bosch sighed with exhaustion and sat down across the table from the Commander. He opened the holoscreen and began the briefing.

"Three troopers in the brig for desertion, one in the brig for assault of an officer, Yaga Minor has been attacked by an unknown ship and...oh, yes. The Death Star got blown up. The Admiralty is trying to dismiss it as Rebel propaganda, but I don't know anyone who's buying it."

"Don't remind me." Vanick said solemnly. "Unknown ship?"

"That's all the report says." Bosch said. "Obviously they're hiding something, but I don't know what."

"Nevermind that, we have our own crisis at hand. Give me an update on the planet." Vanick asked.

"The whole situation has gone to hell, sir." Bosch explained. "The capital is completely overrun. The cult has overrun the garrison, and seems to have set up anti-air batteries around the city. Our TIEs can't even get close."

"How did it come to this?" Vanick sighed, removing his Officer's cap and running his hand through his hair. "I just got here. This was supposed to be a loyalist planet. An easy posting for my first command. I don't have the experience for a planetary uprising, nor the tactical wherewithal to combat it."

"Honestly sir, I haven't seen anything like this." Bosch said. "I've never seen an entire planet do this. An entire species going crazy like this..."

"Do you remember when you were a junior officer?" Vanick asked.

Bosch seemed taken aback. "I do."

"Simpler times." Vanick chuckled.

Bosch' scowl barely twitched. "They were. But here we are. Now you need to decide."

"You can't ask me to make this decision," Vanick said, leaning forward in his chair. "We have time to request a quarantine fleet. They can do the dirty deed, but I can't be asked to do this."

"Sir, with respect, it's not a disease. The Quarantine Fleet won't even pick up the holocommunicator for us." Bosch argued. "There's only one thing the Tarkin Doctrine asks of us, in the face of total planetary uprising."

"This is not how I imagined being remembered in the history books." Vanick whispered. "Not like this."

"We have no choice, sir." Bosch sighed. "Tarkin doctrine clearly states that rebellions must be crushed. It doesn't make an exception for entire planets."

"So, now what? Do we barrage the surface until nothing but glass remains? We are only one ship, that would take weeks."

"Sir, we have to make a decision ASAP. We don't know if the cultists have access to space travel at this time. We can't risk them leaving the planet."

Vanick sat and stared at the surface of the table in front of him for some time.

"Sir." Bosch insisted. "This is time-sensitive."

"Which is worse, being remembered as a monster, or a traitor?" Vanick mumbled.

"That's your choice, sir. One will require me to shoot you."

"Compelling, that makes me feel so much more at ease, thank you, Bosch. I suppose we must follow Imperial doctrine in all matters then…no matter the nightmares it will give us..."

Vacnick stood up, and the two officers made their way to the bridge. Not another word was spoken between the two officers on their walk through the ship.

/

"Commander on deck!"

"As you were, as you were." Vanick said dismissively as he stepped onto the bridge. He made his way across the catwalk, under the watchful eye of the officers below. It felt as though everybody on deck already knew what their mission was. It was deathly quiet, save for the occasional beep of machinery.

Vanick looked down at the planet below. Children, families, Imperials hiding from the cult. Who knew how many innocents were down there. He let out an audible sigh and turned to face his crew.

"Men, today we have a...truly horrific task before us." He started. "This morning, we lost contact with the capital's garrison. Scans indicate it has been overrun, and the cult has complete dominance on the ground. At this time, it appears as though the entire planet is under their control, which leaves us no choice but to bombard the planet from orbit."

Eyes dropped to the ground at the sound of his words. Sighs and mumbling erupted throughout the bridge.

"It's an ugly job, but this is a rebellion." Vanick continued. "We all signed up to protect this empire from those who would send the galaxy into chaos, and now our Emperor calls upon us to uphold our oath. Navigator, place us in orbit over the capital. Tactical, you may begin protocols for Base Delta Zero."

The officers got to work on their tasks, albeit slowly and reluctantly. Vanick took one last look down at the planet below, before turning his back on it. What was he doing? Could he truly execute this order? What happened to the Lieutenant aboard that frigate? He was gone, replaced with the Commander's uniform.

"Protocols are punched in, Sir." tactical announced from the work pits.

Vanick couldn't take his eyes off the floor. He slowly raised his hand to signal the order to begin the total removal of life on the planet's surface. At that moment, he wondered how many of the Zabraks down there were children. Innocent men and women. As he took his breath to order the tactical officer to begin, a small series of dings began to ring out from the sensor station's console.

"Sir, incoming vessel." Said the sensor operator.

"One of ours?" Bosch asked.

"It's not transmitting Imperial codes." The operator replied.

The ship suddenly shook violently. The entire bridge crew lost their balance as the ship tilted to one side.

"Incoming fire!"

"Brace for impact!"

"I want every gun pointed at that fucking ship!"

"Shields are already failing!"

"What is that thing?!"

"Boarding parties reported on decks eight and thirteen!"

"All hands, prepare to repel boarders!"

"Captain, your orders?!"

"Break orbit! Evade that incoming fire! Keep our forward shields up as long as possible!"

Vanick regained his balance and wiped away the blood that was dripping into his eye, stinging the cornea and making it difficult to concentrate on giving orders. Through the smoke and the sparks, he looked out the window to see if he could identify whatever was out there.

Whatever it was, it was like nothing he had ever seen. It was massive and black, eclipsing the sun as it towered over the Incorruptible. A volley of uncountable turbo laser and rocket rounds erupted from its hull, aiming straight for Vanick's ship.

"BRACE!" He screamed over the chaos.

The ship received the full force of the broadside. Vanick washed as his ship broke apart. The hull warped like waves on a pond, and bodies began to pour into space from the flaming holes in the lower decks.

"Hyperdrive is offline!"

"Weapons are not responding!"

"Sir, your orders?!"

The Star Destroyers ion cannons and turbolasers returned fire, but the lone ship couldn't defeat something so overwhelmingly powerful. Slowly, the hull was ripped to shreds by incoming fire. Vanick's body failed him. His mind failed him. He couldn't think of anything. All he could do was watch his ship slowly fall apart. Bodies were throw into space by the hundreds as the strange ship punched hole after hole into the Destroyer's hull.

"A-Abandon ship!" Vanick ordered. "Get everybody out of here! Abando-"

The Commander's attention was drawn to the bridge window. In the distance, the smoke trails of two enemy missiles slowly turned their direction towards the bridge. As they drew closer, their size and velocity became gruesomely apparent to everyone who saw them coming. Straight for the bridge.

"Get down!" Bpsch roared.

Vanick hit the deck along with the rest of the bridge crew. There was a deafening blast that left his ears ringing. Instantly, before Vanick's brain could process the event, his body was ripped into space through the broken window. His arm tore as his body rubbed past the broken window, and as he was tossed into space, the sound of battle, the screams, the explosions, they all faded away, replaced by the impossible silence of space combat. The air left his lungs instantly. He felt his skin expand in the vacuum of space, and his eyes began to freeze open.

This is it. The end. In thirty seconds, he would be dead. One...two…

He looked up at the massive black ship as it rammed the insignificant Incorruptible out of its way, pushing for the planet surface. The Incorruptible filled space with a brilliant flash of flame, which quickly went out as the vacuum of space deprived the flames of oxygen.

Thirteen...fourteen…

He felt something bump into his back. He turned his head and locked eyes with a fellow Imperial officer, his eyes bloodshot and his skin stretched and bloated. It seemed he had been outside just as long as Vanick had, as he was still conscious and very much afraid. No man deserved to die alone out here. Vanick tried to grab the officer, to give him somebody to die alongside, but before he could grab hold, the officer was way too far out of arm's reach. Vanick reached out in the futile hope that somehow, his arms could reach the man, and the fellow officer reached for him out of the same futile hope, but both already knew they were doomed to freeze and suffocate alone in the grim, dark silence of space.

Twenty-three...twenty-four...

His eyes began to unfocus as his brain slowly surrendered to oxygen deprivation.

Twenty-seven…

Suddenly, he felt a strange warmth and a bright light wrap around him.

Twenty-eight…

Vanick gasped as air entered his lungs. His vision refocused slowly as his burning lungs aggressively fought for every breath he could take. He sat there for a time, just appreciating being able to breathe again, not caring how or why, just that he could. After a minute or two, he felt capable of standing up. He pushed his aching, ruined body off the ground, and scanned his surroundings.

The large room was built with an architecture completely alien to him. Sleek and intricate, like nothing he had ever seen. Gold and silver decorated the walls, and great arches and pillars stretched from floor to ceiling.

This was a ship. He recognized the hum of a ship's engines, so who did it belong to? A tall figure dressed in a velvet-like robe appeared from behind one of the pillars and removed the hood from his head. It was a humanoid with long hair, pointed ears, and fair skin.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Commander Tarwin." The alien stated. "You look terrible."


	5. So it Begins

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Iridonia, Orbit**

**Location: Brig of the Incorruptible, 10 minutes prior to ship's destruction**

**Subject: Marcos Rey**

Flame.

Chains.

Whips.

A man...a monster...a god? Whatever it was, it was massive, adorned in black armor, and was big enough to look over the entire galaxy as it burned.

An eye of flame. A dead language hissed through the darkness that Marcos couldn't understand.

The faces of his squad, now dead and decaying. Screaming for help. Blaming him for their deaths.

Marcos woke up in the familiar cold sweat. The cold stiff surface of his cell floor reminded him where he was. The dark walls. The dim lighting shining through the bars that made up the ceiling. Detention Block Alpha. The place they send traitors and belligerents. It had been two days without water or food now. He was surprised he had any water left to sweat out.

The knife wound in his back was patched up just enough to make sure he could survive until his execution. How considerate of them.

"Ah, good. You're awake." Came a voice over the intercom.

"Lieutenant Cull...you here for the party?" Marcos asked, his dehydrated vocal cords barely letting the words escape his throat.

"Of course I'm here. I wouldn't miss your execution for the world."

"Well, you are a man of your word, at least. How many troopers did your sorry ass leave behind on that planet to die at the hands of that cult, just to come to watch little old me?"

The door to the cell slid open with a hydraulic whoosh. Lieutenant Cull stormed into the cell, brandishing a pistol. His face was red with rage, his nostrils flaring. He held the pistol right to Marcos' head. Marcos felt the cold metal against his temple. Through the darkness, Marcos could see the black eye on the officer's face where he punched him.

"That's healing up pretty good." Marcos joked.

"I would love nothing more than to see you die, right here." Cull spat. "I gave you more chances than you deserved to get on my good side, but you insisted on defying me at every turn! For every time you talked back to me. Every time you questioned my orders..."

Marcos looked down the barrel of that pistol. Lieutenant Cull's teeth formed into a sadistic smirk.

"But where's the fun in that?" He asked, lowering the pistol. "Tomorrow, you will fry until your vocal cords are too broken for you to scream any longer. Then, your charred body will be shot into the void. You will be the last trooper who defies my command, mark my words."

"Give me a break, sir," Marcos sneered. "Officers like you are a dime a dozen. Born into a position of power because your dad paid off the admiralty. I bet you're too squeamish to even watch me beg for death. You may as well do it yourself if you're such a great Lieutenant. Go on. Have you ever even fired that thing? Looks pretty clean to me. Do your job as an Imperial officer and shoot me! Right here, right now!"

Cull smirked and swung his fist into Marcos' side. The knife wound opened back up, and Marcos' crumpled to the floor. The damp warmth of the blood once again poured out from the freshly opened wound. The first warmth the trooper had felt in days. At least there was that.

"I will see you tomorrow." Cull stated, backing out of the cell and shutting the door. "I'd take a look at that cut. It looks pretty bad."

Marcos groaned and sat up, clutching his side. There went his last hope of getting a quick death out of this.

As he sat there, letting the sweat from his nightmares slowly dry off of his skin, letting the blood soak into his black undersuit. He thought back to his conscription. The bastard who dragged him from his home on Spira. How his innocence of the galaxy was torn from him, little by little, with every battle he was forced to partake in. The taming of Kashyyyk, the Battle of Allst Prime, the countless slaughter he engaged in. All of it, he simply shrugged away in the hope of one day getting back to his home. How many horrible things he did to survive service, just to waste it by punching the one officer in the face. The wrong officer, too. Stupid. Stupid.

For a moment, Marcos let out a chuckle over the absurdity of it all, but the chuckle slowly devolved into silence. He thought about all the men that died under his command, his wasted life, the atrocities he witnessed and said nothing. He sat there for some time.

"ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

Marcos was jerked out of his grief at the sound of the muffled alarms blaring through the hallways. He stood up, grimacing at the pain in his side, and held his ear to the door.

"ALL HANDS, BEAT TO QUARTERS! SCRAMBLE ALL FIGHTERS!"

The ship jerked as incoming fire pelted the shields. Marcos felt the weakness in his body give way to adrenaline as the recoil of the ships gun batteries vibrated through the hull.

"BOARDERS IN THE HANGAR BAY! PREPARE TO DEFEND!"

Another volley of fire hit the hull. The lights flickered as Marcos was flung into the wall across the room. A wave of crippling pain shot across his whole body as his open wound slammed into the hard metal.

The power suddenly died completely. The lights all at once died, and the artificial gravity released its pull on Marcos' body. The adrenaline continued to pump into his system, temporarily alleviating the pain in his side. It was pitch black inside the cell, and Marcos was disoriented, dehydrated and floating in zero gravity in a pool of his own blood. He tried to paddle his way to the wall. He recoiled when his hand slammed into something hard.

"Where's the fucking door…" He mumbled to himself.

With any luck, the power outage shut down the mag lock doors in the detention bay. With more luck, he had enough strength left to even open it.

He pulled his way around the walls, feeling for evidence of which way was up or down. He had two days to memorize the cell, and of course he wasted the time wallowing in self-pity. The sound of another volley hitting the ship. The way the ship shook with the impact, it didn't feel like shields were up anymore. That was a direct hit on the hull. He had to get out and get to the hangar bay before the ship ripped apart, and from the sound of it, he had very little time to do so.

A corner. It felt like the bed, which was nothing more than a metal slab raised three feet off the floor. That meant the door was across the room from him. He pushed away and felt the wall. His fingers felt around the corners of the doorframe. There it was.

"Yes." He croaked, with as much enthusiasm as his weakened body could muster.

Now to open the door. He felt for anywhere to curve his fingers around, to grip on to. The door was extremely minimalist in design, and had very little bumps or rides to pull from. He tried to get his fingernails into the cracks of the door, but the seal was too tight. He grunted and cursed the door out of frustration.

Another volley hit the ship. Suddenly, Marcos' eyes were blinded by a flash that he assumed was the ship finally succumbing to the barrage of incoming fire. When the light overtook him, he expected to die, or burn, or anything, but instead, he felt nothing. No pain, no death. At least, he didn't think so. As the light surrounded him, his body finally surrendered to the blood loss and dehydration, and his vision fell away to blackness.

/

Marcos woke up in a bed, more comfortable than any bed he had ever laid in. Sure beat the hell out of Imperial barrack bunks.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and took in the room's design. The light was warm like a summer sun on Naboo. The bedframe was handcrafted out of wood. Someone put a lot of effort into its construction. Inside the circular pattern of interweaving wooden knots was a wooden statue of a female with her arms open, as if she was watching over him. The room was just as elaborately designed. Layers of interweaving vines covered the walls and archways, which opened up to reveal a great forest in the distance.

A long-haired figure entered the room so quietly and gracefully, that Marcos was completely unaware of the alien's presence.

"Where the hell am I? And who the hell are you?" Marcos demanded.

"I see you are regaining your strength, human, if you are capable of such... colorful language." The female figure replied calmly.

"You didn't answer my question, knife ears."

Marcos tried to get out of the bed, but the elf moved her hand over Marcos's torso. Marcos suddenly felt his guard drop. He felt at ease even. He didn't like it.

"You are on Rivendell, Sergeant Rey." The elf explained. "We saved you from your Star Destroyer before it was destroyed."

"I was a prisoner." Marcos grunted. "Why save me?"

"A prisoner aboard an Imperial ship is no doubt a prisoner for doing something good." The elf explained.

Marcos chuckled and rubbed his knuckles. "It felt good, anyway…"

"Hmm." The elf said, the corner of her mouth forming the smallest hint of amusement.

"I was in a cell and the ship was blowing up. You would've had to board the Incorruptible, fight to the detention block, open the cell door, drag my ass back-"

"There are other methods to extract one from a ship. Methods the Empire would do well not to know of. I will explain no more."

The elf lowered her arm and turned to leave.

"You are mending, food will be brought to you shortly." The elf stated.

"Wait." Marcos called. "Who are you? What did you just do to me with your hand? "

The elf smiled.

"Rest now, eat and I will answer every question you have. There is a war coming, and you must be ready to fight it."

The elf bowed her head and left the room. Marcos lay in the bed and felt for the knife wound. Nothing. Barely a scar where the knife entered. Who were these people? Who attacked them? Why did he feel so calm in this place? What could so easily take down an Imperial Star Destroyer? What the hell is a Rivendell?

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Yavin IV**

**Location: Great Temple**

**Subject: Mala Pong**

The whole base was celebrating. Everywhere mala looked, pilots were drinking, couples were kissing, and officers were taking a well-deserved rest.

The Death Star was destroyed, along with the dictator Grand Moff Tarkin and two million bucketheads. It was a good day.

Shorkazza gave her a concerned grunt.

"No no, I'm having a great time! We just kicked the Empire's ass! It's just…"

Shorkazza grunted a reply.

"Well, next fight, maybe they will actually need something sabotaged. Hopefully they can use us."

Shorkazza gave a sympathetic moan and placed his massive Wookiee arm over her shoulder. Mala let out a light chuckle.

"It's a bet. You know I'm a much better shot, Kazz."

Shorkazza's head whipped towards Mala and let out a skeptical grunt.

"Prove it." Mala replied lightheartedly.

As the two wandered through the halls, passing by the hundreds of celebrating rebels who cheered, splashed drinks at each other and danced. Through the crowds of victorious Alliance fighters, Mala saw a stern-looking officer approach her.

"Mala Pong. Shorkazza. Follow me." He ordered.

Mala and Kazz gave each other a shrug and obeyed, following the officer into the Briefing Room. Inside was a gathering of the Alliance top brass, Senator Mothma and an elderly man dressed in a grey robe. His beard almost reached the floor as it hung from his chin, and in his hand was a wooden staff, about as tall as the man was.

"Mala, please enter." Mothma called out to the Twi'lek awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Mala walked in, once again under the eyes of several high-ranking people. Something about being watched makes someone suddenly forget their normal motor functions. Walking normally, remembering how to talk, all these things seem to disappear from memory once important people are staring at you. Mala tried to pretend not to be nervous, approached an empty seat and sat down.

"Everyone I asked for is present?" Mothma asked the officer.

"Yes, Senator." The officer nodded.

"Good. Then we may begin." Mothma exclaimed. "Generals, distinguished officers, this is Gandalf. It's through him we have learned of an imminent and glaring threat to the galaxy. This information is of an extremely sensitive nature, so nothing I tell you will leave this room."

The old man Mothma named Gandalf scanned the room and its occupants. His eyes fell on Mala's, and the two exchanged eye contact for some time. His eyes were ancient beyond comprehension, full of the experience of a thousand lifetimes. Mala saw sadness, wisdom and hope in those eyes like she had never seen in anyone else before.

"I must congratulate you all for your recent victory," Gandalf announced, "And I must apologize for taking you all away from your celebrations, but these are urgent matters."

Gandalf looked to the screen on the wall, then, after a time of fumbling with the buttons on the panel, harshly mumbled something about technology, then looked to Mothma. Mothma nodded to the officer to her right, who proceeded to turn on the screen. The screen on the wall flicked on, displaying the profile of an Imperial that Mala didn't recognize.

"This is the Thirteenth Sister." Mothma explained. "She is a Miraluka, thirty-four years old, and an Imperial Inquisitor. Her last-known whereabouts was the planet Florrum. Her mission there was top-secret, but we have managed to gather enough intel to determine that what she was searching for was an artifact. A dangerous artifact of extremely powerful dark force energy."

"Dark force? You mean the Sith?" One of the older officers asked.

"No." Gandalf interjected. "Not the Sith. Something far older and far more insidious."

Mothma nodded to the officer, and the screen flicked again to show schematics of a ring. It was gold, engraved with writings that glowed around its band.

"This is the artifact the Thirteenth Sister was after." Mothma explained.

"A ring?" One officer asked, confused.

"Not just a ring. An extremely dangerous and ancient one." Mothma replied, "The Sister appears to have found the Ring, and our spies have confirmed that her ship was en route to Coruscant. We assume the Emperor himself tasked her to find this artifact."

The screen flicked again, revealing the galactic map. The path of the Inquisitor's route, depicted by a thin line that cut across the map, suddenly bent away from Coruscant and moved away from the galactic center.

"However, as of yesterday, her course was rerouted to Nur in the Mustafar System, the Location of an old Inquisitorial fortress. Our assumption is that she has fallen under the influence of the Ring's addictive properties. This gives us a unique opportunity to acquire this artifact and remove it from Imperial hands."

"This all seems very sudden for something so important, Senator." One General stated. "If this artifact exists, why should we be worried about it? We are fighting a war, not treasure-hunting!"

Gandalf sighed and sat down in a nearby chair, removing his strange pointy hat and placing it on the table.

"Our master saboteur, Mala Pong, has already informed us of the encounter on Yaga Minor, General." Mothma argued. "We know there is a new faction at play, and it is capable of destroying Imperial ships with unusual ease. This artifact, as I'm told by Gandalf, is what they're after. We find it, and ensure they don't retrieve it."

"We know next to nothing about this new faction." The General complained, letting out a weak cough. "We don't know their capabilities, their numbers, we don't even know if they're a threat! The Empire is a threat! We know this! I am hesitant to devote resources for chasing jewelry while the Empire is at our doorstep!"

"If this new faction is so powerful," Another officer added, "Then why don't we give them what they want? If this ring is all they want, then we find it, hand it over, and in theory, they return to whatever part of the unknown regions they skulked from."

"No!" Gandalf exclaimed. "We cannot allow Sauron to retrieve his ring!"

"Sauron?" The General asked. "What do you know that you're not telling us, old man?"

Gandalf sighed. "Perhaps it is best I show you. There is so much to explain, and little time. Do not fear what I show you now, merely try to understand the gravity of it."

Gandalf waved his hand, and Mala exclaimed a curse in Twi'lek as her vision was washed over with darkness. She desperately swiveled her head around her surroundings, but nothing but black met her eyes.

After a short time waiting in the black, the darkness surrounding Mala receded to reveal visions of war, of creatures she recognized from Yaga Minor, of humanoids in black cloaks washing over entire worlds with waves of overwhelming numbers. Large monsters and small monsters, what Mala could only describe as the undead wading through piles of dead, and it wasn't only these gruesome monsters following behind these cloaked figures. Zabraks, Klatooinians, Devaronians, Neimoidians, Rodians, Humans of various cultures and hundreds of other species Mala couldn't name off-hand followed as well.

Mala watched as Imperial forces fought alongside Alliance rebels, all in vain against the tides of evil. More visions followed of hospitals treating millions of soldiers and civilians alike, sick with an illness that had no cure. Madness of sleepless nights and famine washed over the galaxy. Nightmares keeping people awake for entire weeks at a time. Brother turning against brother in their madness. Mass suicides just to end the suffering.

The sounds of war and death slowly faded away, followed by the quiet of a dark room. Mala looked around, at the dark walls, the cast iron torches lining the walls, the jagged design of the doorways and ceiling. Soldiers adorned in elaborate armors, brandishing an arsenal of weaponry, lined the walls of the room. Unsure if these dark warriors could see her, Mala stayed deathly still, but slowly realized they didn't perceive her presence in the room.

A creature, what looked like the Miraluka Inquisitor from the briefing, entered the room through the archway on the far end. She watched on as the Miraluka strode, almost unconsciously, across the floor. Her expression was blank and empty, as if she was no longer in control of her own movements. The Inquisitor stopped walking as she reached the opposite end of the room, which was too shrouded in darkness for Mala to fully make out what sat there, but something did indeed sit there. Something big. Maybe a throne?

The warriors all kept their eyes on the inquisitor as the inquisitor bowed before the large silhouette. Mala approached the dark side of the room to see if she could make out what the inquisitor was bowing before.

As she approached, a booming, inhuman voice shook the room in a language Mala couldn't understand, but recognized the smooth evil of it from her encounter on Yaga Minor. The voice spoke from the darkness, filling the room with its malevolence. When it had finished, the inquisitor pulled a small ring from her neck, and reached out her hand towards the dark figure. A massive, black-armored hand reached out from the black and took the ring from her hand.

Suddenly, the room was filled with a sense of despair more intense than Mala had never felt before. She felt as though her entire body had lost its ability to be happy. She watched as the dark silhouette rose and moved out of the darkness. Mala's eyes widened as the massive silhouette came into full view before her.

It was at least twelve feet tall, and dressed in layers of black plate armor. It's helmet was designed like a crown, but no benevolent king would wear such a grotesque thing on their brow. With every step the massive armored creature took, the ground shook. Its laugh seemed not to come from its mouth, but from its mind, burning into Mala's head as it approached the Inquisitor that still bowed before it. The creature stood over the inquisitor, then, much like how any humanoid would brush an insect from its shoulder, the armored figure flicked its hand through the air, and the inquisitor's form evaporated with a scream and a gust of wind.

Suddenly, the creature's attention shot towards Mala. Mala was given no time to ask whether the creature saw her, as the armored monster quickly approached her, it's black hand outstretched, the ring glowing on its finger. A scream of rage rang in her mind as the creature charged her.

I SEE YOU

Mala screamed and backed away. As she backed from the creature, her senses returned to the quiet calm of the Temple's briefing room. Her back hit the wall, and her eyes readjusted to the brightness of the rebel base.

"What the hell was that?!" One of the attending officers blurted.

Mala scanned the room. It seemed as though everyone in the room had witnessed what she had. Shorkazza was roaring and darting his eyes around the room. Mothma was out of breath, but seemed to recover quickly. Gandalf sighed and lowered his head, as if exhausted from what he had just shown us.

"Mothma, who the hell is this guy?!" The officer insisted. "And what did he do to us?!"

"It is a vision of things to come, General." Gandalf explained. "This foe, Sauron the Deceiver, is coming, and if we do not find this ring before he does, then we are lost. Already he searches for it, and he is ahead of us."

"Gandalf has shown me worse things to come. Things I would spare you the sight of." Mothma added. "Which is why this mission is of utmost importance."

The General, once skeptical of the situation, adjusted the collar on his uniform and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Well," He started, clearing his throat and letting out another cough. "That was Sauron? The big one?"

Gandalf nodded. "An ancient enemy of this galaxy. For millennia, he has planned his return, and now, he is moving to reclaim his dominion over us all. The One Ring is a part of him. If he finds his ring, he will be whole again, and his influence will dominate every world. You have all already felt him. The nightmares you have all been experiencing? The eye of flame you have all seen in your heads at night?"

The room erupted with confused head nods, confirming the old man's words. Mala had one such nightmare a week ago, and Gandalf's knowledge of this made her squirm in her chair.

"His ring wants him to find it." Gandalf continued. "He hears it always. His servants hear it...always. We must act now."

The General sat back in his chair. "How do you suggest we retrieve this artifact?"

"We send in a stealth team, infiltrate the fortress on Nur, find the Thirteenth Sister, retrieve the Ring." Mothma explained. "Like I said, the Ring has an addictive property, which gives us reason to assume she will be in possession of it. We will need a master in infiltration to lead the team."

Mothma turned her eyes towards Mala, whose eyes widened.

"You want me to lead a team into the Inquisitorial Fortress, one of the evilest places in the galaxy?" Mala inquired, perplexed by the task. "In the Mustafar system, which so happens to also be the home of Vader's fortress? Senator, I know I'm massively outranked here, but-"

"You are outranked." Mothma sternly interrupted. "With the Jedi all but gone, the Inquisitorial budget has been cut substantially. The fortress will be minimally manned. Pick out your team. Be back in this room in sixteen hours. That should give your people enough time to sober up. Dismissed."

Mala sat there as the scrape of chair-against-floor filled the room. The officers filed out with discussions of the celebrations, of the Death Star, of the recent experience they all shared, of whatever high-ranking officers discuss. Shorkazza moved to sit next to Mala, and gave her a concerned grunt.

"Hey, we said we wanted to help with the next mission." Mala replied, now regretting her own words from earlier. "We get in, somehow kill an Inquisitor, take a ring and leave all without encountering a single Purge Trooper, who will most likely instantly kill us, if not torture us for the rest of our lives, if we're caught. Piece of cake…"

"You will not be alone." The voice of Gandalf came from the corner of the room. "I will join you."

"You?" Mala asked, turning her head towards the old man. "No offence, but I don't want you tripping over your beard while we're sneaking through the damn lion's den."

Gandalf gave a look of amusement. "You don't live to grow a beard this long by being a fool, young Twi'lek. Trust me when I say I've never tripped over it."

Mala sighed. Something about this old man seemed to encourage her to lend her his trust.

"Fine, but if you fall behind in that place, I'm not coming back for you." Mala said, standing up from her chair. "I won't be captured. Not in that place."

"I would not risk anyone going there unless there was no other choice." Gandalf professed. "My dear Twi'lek, I'm not joining you to fulfill some desire for adventure. I'm joining to protect you."

"Protect us?" Mala scoffed. "So you can make people hallucinate with your hand. That's impressive, but fighting Inquisitors is another thing altogether. What could you possibly do to protect us? Hit them really hard with your stick?"

Gandalf laughed out loud, then hit the butt of his staff into the floor. All of a sudden, Mala was frozen in place, unable to move. Her eyes could still see, but she was unable to move them in any direction. She watched on as Gandalf stood up from his chair, placed his hat on his head and walked up to her.

"This old man has a few tricks up his sleeve, Mala Pong." He said calmly.

Shorkazza roared and pulled a bowcaster from his back, aiming it at the wizard. Gandalf's eyes shot towards Shorkazza, who immediately dropped the bowcaster. Out of the corner of her eye, all she could make out was the red glow of a melting piece of metal on the floor. Mala tried to move but simply was unable to do so, no matter how she tried to push against her own body.

"You leave the Inquisitor to me. I'll leave the infiltration to you." Gandalf said, looking into her frozen eyes. Gandalf poked his staff into her chest, and she fell to the floor, gasping as her diaphragm was finally able to pull fresh air into her lungs.

"What...are you?" Mala gasped.

"I will never get used to how quickly the galaxy forgot about us." Gandalf sighed. "I have been alive since before your species evolved legs. I am Istari, defenders of reality against the darkest of evils. Looks can be deceiving, Mala. Trust that I will not let you be captured in that place."

Gandalf left the room, leaving Mala laying on the ground. Shorkazza knelt down and weakly grunted at her, resting her head in his arm.

"I'm fine, I'm just out of breath." Mala replied. "How's your hand, buddy?"

Shorkazza shrugged and groaned.

"That's good. Been a weird month, huh?"

Shorkazza gave an affirmative bark.

"Let's get our team together, while they're still sober enough to listen. Hopefully, this Gandalf guy is a man of his word."

Shorkazza grunted with a hint of skepticism.

"Hey, he took you out pretty good." Mala mentioned, pointing at the melting hunk of metal on the floor that used to be a bowcaster.

Shorkazza mumbled angrily.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't get so attached to your weapons, old buddy."

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: N/A**

**Location: Rivendel, Flagship of the Noldor Nomadic Fleet**

**Subject: Vanick Tarwin**

Vanick looked over the balcony of his room, into the forest and waterfalls below. Birds were singing as they flew through the artificial skyline. The sunlight shining down from the ceiling high above his head was warm and golden, hardly distinguishable from the light of a real star. It seemed to stretch forever in every direction. Beautifully intricate bridges stretched across the cliff sides all across the width of the valley. He could see several figures walking smoothly across the bridges, stopping to smell flowers and to exchange words.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Came a voice from behind.

Vanick removed his hands from the railing and turned around. It was Elrond, one of the elves that first greeted him, and an apparent leader of these aliens. He seemed trusting, as he never came with guards or weapons.

"It's beyond belief." Vanick replied, turning back towards the forest. "To maintain such a massive ecosystem, complete with wildlife, a powerful light source, and even a water cycle, the technical requirements must be...astronomical. How big is this ship?"

"One could compare it to a small moon." Elrond replied. "There are a few dozen such ships across the galaxy, moving from place to place."

"Nomads?"

"It became necessary after the Rakata obliterated our homes," Elrond grumbled. "But that was so long ago, we never settled down again, finding it safer to keep moving. We have grown accustomed to a nomadic life. Each ship is named after a city we left behind, and each ship was built to resemble the environment of the planet the Rakata destroyed."

"I'm sorry." Vanick said quietly.

"Don't be," Elrond replied. "It's not our destiny to live like this forever, and there are more pressing matters."

"I agree. I have questions."

"Ask them."

"You knew when and where we were attacked. You know exactly where to find us. Why save us at all? Why didn't you fight with us?"

Elrond sighed. "There are some among our species with the gift of foresight. I looked into our future and saw you, leading the galaxy to victory."

Vanick blinked once or twice.

"What?"

"I do not know exactly how or why, but it appears your future holds the galaxy in the balance."

Vanick scoffed

"I'm just a ship Commander, Elrond. Find yourself a Grand Moff, or maybe the Emperor himself, 'cause I'm not nearly important enough to be the person you're looking for."

"I'm rarely mistaken. Rarely…"

"So you admit that sometimes you are."

"I have been wrong...once…about one person, a friend of mine..." Elrond mumbled. "But that was nine-thousand years ago."

Vanick bent over and placed his head in his hands.

"I'm going to need a rundown of what exactly is going on here, because every question I ask only seems to bring up three more."

Elrond sighed and sat down. "You may want to eat first. This will take a while."

"Eat first? How much do you have to explain?"

"About fifty-two thousand years worth. Perhaps we should start with Melkor..."

/

"This is madness." Vanick said finally, his head still resting in his hands. "I don't know if I believe it. Surely, if this Sauron guy exists, we would have documentation, or myths, or anything!"

"Given enough time, everything turns to dust...even the most important of history," Elrond stated. "But now you understand what we face."

"I have to warn the Admiralty. They have no idea what's really coming for us." Vanick urged, placing his officer's cap on his head and zipping up his tunic.

"You think telling the Admiralty will help?" Elrond asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No idea," Vanick replied. "But I can't sit by while some evil demon wizard monster comes to kill us all!"

"Commander."

Vanick paused from his frantic dressing and looked at the elf.

"You're Not the only one we saved. It would be best to take them with you."

"What? Who else did you save?"

"I didn't take the time to learn each name, but they are well taken care of."

"Show them to me."

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Dathomir**

**Location: Dathomir Imperial Prison**

**Subject: The Mouth of Sauron**

"KILL ME! PLEASE!"

"JUST RUN!"

"WHAT IS HE?!"

The Mouth of Sauron strode through the grey halls of the prison, his blade slicing with ease through the poorly-armed prison guards that foolishly stood in his way. His smile stretched across what little face could be seen under his helmet, revealing his rotting, blackened teeth underneath. In and out of the squads of troopers, his black energy blade danced and sliced, hacking away legs and arms as if there was no armor at all. What troopers his blade didn't kill, the sorcery he wove into his weapon caused crippling agony to anyone unfortunate enough to come into contact with its black blade.

The Mouth paused and looked around him. To watch the frothing survivors begging for death, the spasming husks of what once were living sentient beings, with hopes and passions, now quivering mindlessly beneath his iron boots, gave him such infinite glee.

"It will be a shame when my master is done with this galaxy," He spoke over the screams. "There will be no more of these Imperials to educate. What a blessing that there are many more galaxies to enjoy."

His heavy armor crushed bone and tendon as he walked over his victims. He walked slowly, enjoying every ounce of discomfort he could derive from these sad creatures.

"Barely human…" He spoke to himself. "You age so quickly, and die so easily. What forces caused thee to devolve so? What curse fell upon thee when you left Numenor? Such weakness, such fragility…"

The Numenorian left his victims to their slow deaths and continued towards the cells.

"The Empire has kept you hidden for so long…" The Numenorian spoke to himself as he wandered through the dark hallways. "But your isolation has come to its end."

He moved past the normal standard Imperial cell blocks, past the creatures that were kept there, past the pleas for release, for freedom. He moved deeper into the depths of the prison, slaying every trooper who dared aim his rifle in his direction. Many floors down into the catacombs of the complex, he finally found what he came for. He grinned wildly as he opened the door to reveal a massive chamber, filled with row upon row of cryo hibernation capsules.

"What a waste of your talents." The Mouth lamented.

He removed his gauntlet from his hand and brushed his grey, scarred fingers against the transparent casing of the capsules before moving toward the control panel in the middle of the room.

"Get back!" A single desperate voice rang out from behind the console.

The Mouth recoiled as a blaster bolt slammed into his armor, pushing him back a step. He blessed his master for giving him exactly what he needed. The Mouth held out his arm. The officer screamed with terror as his body was lifted off the ground, then pulled across the room, straight into the Mouth's waiting grasp.

"How do I release them?" The Mouth asked. "These prisoners? You know the controls to these machines."

"Fuck you…" The petrified officer gasped as the Numenorian's hand wrapped around his neck.

"If you do not give me this knowledge, then I will pluck it from your mind."

The Mouth placed his free hand on the officer's forehead. After a few seconds of wailing, the officer was dead, nothing more than a dehydrated mummy, drained of its memories, its talents, of all that made it alive. The Mouth threw the corpse to the ground, which stiffly hit the floor, a permanent scream resting on its mummified mouth.

"My master thanks thee." The Numenorian hissed.

The dark Lieutenant slid to the control panel. He looked through the stolen memories of the officer he drained and grinned as he found what he was looking for. He touched his fingers against the buttons on the panel, and with a loud hiss, the hibernation capsules began to thaw out their cargo.

The capsules opened, and out fell a pale Dathomirian, coughing and shivering.

"The hibernation sickness will wane with time." The Mouth stated as the capsules opened.

Each capsule released a single woman, all with uniquely-designed tattoos covering their faces. Some threw up as the hibernation sickness took hold of their shivering bodies.

"My master wishes to welcome thee back to the galaxy. You have been gone far too long." The Mouth stated.

"Who are you?" The nearest Dathomirian asked weakly as she wobbled on her unused legs.

"Merely an envoy for one who would grant thee the gift of revenge." The Mouth replied, giving her a wild smile.

"Revenge?" The Dathomirian croaked.

The Mouth smile dilated even further across his scarred face.

"Once, Dathomir was a lush, beautiful world." The Black Numenorian announced to his Dathomirian audience. "Dathomirians were free, free to explore the limits of their magicks. The galaxy came and killed. They butchered and exterminated you and your people. Now, the Empire seeks to freeze you away. They would see you erased from history. They would see your culture destroyed! My master, the Necromancer of Dol Guldur, the one true ruler of all things, the Great Eye, the seer of all, wishes nothing more than to see you freed. Join him, and together, we will reap vengeance on this galaxy for what they have done to you! You will have power as you have never felt before! We will show you the true limits of your magicks..."

The Mouth moved his gaze across the ranks of Dathomirian witches before him.

"What say you?" He asked, his wild grin still stretched across his dry skin.

The eldest Dathomirian looked back to her people, then back to the strange masked creature before her. She gave a grin and a nod.

The Mouth let out a slow, deep chuckle.

"Good."

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Mygeeto**

**Location: Imperial Staging Area 243**

**Subject: Anakin Skywalker**

"Shit, are those 501st insignias?"

"Vader's Fist. You know what that means."

"It means keep your head down and keep your mouth shut."

"Shh, there he is…"

"Oh gods…"

Vader's augmented helmet sensors picked up every word, every whispered conversation around him as he and his legion entered the camp. There was a time he would have killed one for speaking ill about him behind his back, just to let them know he was always listening, but so many years had hardened him to the whispers and the fear. Now, he took pride in his ability to immediately enforce discipline wherever he went.

But something he did hear, past all the whispers and discussions, was coughing. An unusual amount of it. It seemed as though half of the men he passed were ill with something. Faces were pale, and men were slow. Why did so many troopers look so ill? Had command not taken steps towards the maintenance of hygiene here? He would have much to discuss with them.

Vader moved his way past the lines of AT-AT's, past the rows of armor, artillery and tents, past the thousands of troopers and operators that scurried to and fro, carrying tools and weapons this way and that, ignoring the stares. Ignoring the whispers. Hearing more coughing. More pale faces. Upon reaching the HQ, he strode in, straight into the conference room, where the command group was already in mid-discussion. A middle-aged man with combed-back hair was first to speak to the Sith Lord as he entered.

"Ah, Vader. We just received word from the High Command you were en route."

"Clearly, our communications have slowed in recent weeks. That message was sent three days ago." Vader replied coldly.

"Clearly. I am Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, this is General-."

"I know who you are, Kaine. What progress has been made with the preparations?"

The Grand Moff seemed unaccustomed to interruption, but hid his offense well.

"The Albarrio Sector Army is fully in place for a full assault of Yaga Minor. The 34th Reconnaissance fleet is currently observing everything coming and going from the Yaga system. The combined fleets of the Outer Rim are in Mygeeto orbit, currently loading our forces as we speak. The sector's inhabitants have been conscripted to the factories for production of new equipment, which began three days ago."

"Very good, Kaine. This enemy has taken us by surprise one too many times. Now, it is our turn. There will be nothing to prevent our victory this time. The Emperor wants the Yaga system retaken by the end of Ascension week." Vader stated, pointing a gloved finger at the Moff. "Do not fail me."

"Failure..." Kaine scoffed. "This foreign invader will feel the true wrath of Imperial might. Nothing can stand against a Sector Army and the entire Outer Rim fleet. Failure is not an option."

It was then that Vader noticed a general to his right cough.

"Grand Moff." Vader started. "It would appear that many in this staging area have developed some illness. I would recommend you enforce Imperial hygiene standards in this camp, or I will be forced to do it myself. I don't want to lose half of our force because of your lack of competence in these matters."

"We are aware of the illness and are working on determining the cause." Kaine replied impatiently.

"Good. As for command, the Emperor has placed me in command of this assault." Vader continued. "Any failure to complete what I ask of you, I will not forgive."

"Vader, a word alone." Kaine requested suddenly.

Vader paused, but eventually did wave his hand at the other officers in the room. The officers all stood up and awkwardly left the room, being sure not to do anything that would offend the Sith's sensibilities. The door shut, leaving the two alone.

"This was to be my operation, Vader." Kaine noted calmly. "It was to be my victory. You can't walk in here and take over my plan. I will not allow it"

"If you are worried about losing the prestige of victory, then you may have it." Vader replied. "Glory means little to me, but I will assume command."

"Glory? You think my concerns are of glory? You think you can come in here and pretend like the Death Star never happened?" Ardus argued. "I will not let my plans fall to you because you feel the need to redeem yourself for your own colossal failures."

"Do not test me, Kaine." Vader threatened, quickly placing himself within inches of the Grand Moff's face.

"No, Vader. Do not test me." Ardus replied fearlessly. "Tarkin was too lenient with your loose cannon attitude, but I will not be. You may be Palpatine's pet, but I have the loyalty of the forces outside these walls. This is my operation. Discipline and intimidate the men all you like, kill some if you must, but their ultimate authority falls with me."

"The Emperor will hear of your insubordination," Vader stated through clenched teeth. "You are not defying my orders, you are defying his."

"I think he will understand that I didn't hand over command of the Empire's largest operation ever planned to a mad dog who couldn't defeat a few dozen rebels."

"I could kill you where you stand." Vader said slowly.

"Yes, kill me! Kill everyone! Kill every General that sneezes wrong at you! You think you can afford to lose me? I can tell you, the next Grand Moff you replace me with will be scared of you, he will follow your every order, but he won't come close to the strategist I am. So good ahead, risk it all, and good luck to you when you return to the Emperor as a failure once again."

The two stared each other down for some time. Vader thought long and hard about how easy it would be. Take out his lightsaber and slice this cocky upstart apart piece by piece as he held him against the ceiling. But there would be time for that later, after the war is won. A strategist of Kaine's caliber was invaluable. For now.

Vader huffed and left the room, violently ripping the door open with a flick of his hand. Ardus held back his smile of absolute glee. He had tamed the Emperor's right hand. At least...for now. He knew once this war was done, that would change. He would be ready.


	6. Fellowship in Strange Places

**Year:0BBY**

**Planet: Nur**

**Location: Orbit**

**Subject: Mala Pong**

"Beginning our approach, so far they don't know we're here." Malta explained as her eyes darted from console to console. "Kazz, take us down."

Shorkazza gave an affirmative bark, and the ship tilted into the atmosphere of the planet. The infiltration team, the four rebel saboteurs sitting in the back of the U-Wing were deathly silent, as if simply by speaking, they might alert the inquisition to their presence.

"Strange, there's no radio chatter at all." Mala said quietly. "You'd think to be this close to Vader's backyard, there'd be something. But there's nothing. No ships on the radar, no obvious energy readings on the planet…"

"Then we must be doubly careful," Gandalf muttered. "And hope that we are not too late."

"Maybe they know we're here." Mala said.

"They wouldn't have let us get this far had they had any knowledge of us." Gandalf replied.

Shorkazza nudged Mala and let out a sympathetic moan.

"I know, sorry. It's just…" Mala started, "This is a bigger mission than I've ever run. You don't break into an Inquisitorial fortress. You just...don't."

"Nothing will befall you while I'm here." Gandalf said reassuringly.

"Sure hope so."

The ship broke under the cloud line and held altitude just over the waterline of the planet's vast ocean. It wasn't long before the black obelisk of the Inquisitorial Fortress began to loom over the horizon.

"Look at that thing." A quiet voice of one of the rebels came from the back of the ship.

"Get read, Grey Team. Don respirators. Kazz, open the rear door." Mala said, getting up from her seat.

Shorkazza grunted and pulled the lever on the dashboard on the ceiling. The rear opened up, letting the humid, cold air blast into the compartment. The saboteurs lined up, put their respirators in, approached the open door, and proceeded to jump into the water. Mala ushered Gandalf to the edge of the door.

"Ladies first." Gandalf said, looking into the cold water.

"Don't fall behind. See you at the LZ, Kazz." Mala said, then jumped out.

Gandalf looked at the freezing cold water, then back at Shorkazza, who made a shooing motion with his hand.

"Oh, so be it." Gandalf said, putting his respirator in his mouth and jumping into the freezing deep.

It was a five-minute swim between the rebels and the fortress, even with sea scooters propelling them through the frigid waters. Mala was first to touch the black metal with her hands. After checking their sensors to make sure nobody was waiting behind the wall to raise the alarm, the rebels moved to form a circle, placed charges onto the wall, set them, and backed away.

There was a flash and a boom as the shockwave traveled through the water. After the dust had cleared, Mala motioned everybody to move into the opening formed by the explosion.

The hallways were empty and silent. The team moved nervously through the halls, keeping an eye on their motion detectors. At each intersection, Gandalf would point in the direction he sensed the ring's presence, and so the team moved further into the bowels of the fortress.

As it became apparent nobody was patrolling the halls, Mala looked back at Gandalf, giving him a look as if he should know where everybody was. Gandalf gave her an innocent look in return.

Suddenly, a beep popped up on the sensor. Mala signaled the halt, and the team moved into a firing position. They heard some gurgling and wheezing come from the far hall perpendicular to their own. With weapons poised, the tea watches as an unarmed Purge Trooper came staggering from the hall, clutching his shoulder and limping.

The trooper didn't notice them as he desperately gasped for air. After a few moments, he fell hard to the floor and stopped gasping. The motion detector was quiet again. Mala gave the signal to move with caution.

As they moved farther into the fortress, Purge Trooper bodies began to increase in frequency. Broken security droids and Black armor littered the increasingly dark hallways. Burn marks along the walls and smoke began to fill the air as they traveled deeper and deeper in. The motion detector flickered again, but only momentarily. The team halted and assumed firing positions. The beep didn't move. Whatever it was, it was not moving much.

"Scraps, check it out." Mala whispered to the old Buzz Droid on her back.

Scraps beeped happily, then jumped off her back and scuttled down the hall. Mala took out a small screen connected to Scraps' cameras. Scrap's moves down the hall and turned the corner, into a large power generator room. On top of a pile of dead Purge Troopers was a woman in an inquisitorial uniform, muttering and sitting on the corpses surrounding her.

"That's the Inquisitor from the vision. The blind one." Mala whispered.

"We must move." Gandalf whispered back.

"You kidding me?" Mala hissed, "She's probably the one that killed an entire fortress worth of troopers!"

"We have no choice. Come." Gandalf said quickly before striking into the generator room.

Mala cursed in Twi'lek, then motioned the team to move.

The team entered the generator room and quietly moved to surround the muttering Inquisitor, who was busy lightly moving her fingers over the metal of a small gold ring.

"Have you also come for it? I feel the force energy oozing from you, old man." The inquisitor said, having finally taken an interest to her visitors.

"That ring is not meant for mortal hands." Gandalf said forcefully. "It will destroy you. You know this."

"I don't care!" The inquisitor said, standing up and wildly swiping an arm at the wizard. "It's mine, nobody else's! Nobody will take it from me! Not you, not the voices that scream at me, not anyone!"

"You have one chance." Gandalf muttered, pulling the blade from his waist. "Surrender the ring. We can destroy it for the good of all life."

"Destroy it?!" The inquisitor shrieked. "Can't have that. Mustn't have that."

The Inquisitor stood up. Gandalf stepped back as the mumbling Miraluka woman pulled the lightsaber from her belt. With a wild scream, she swung her double-edged blade down on Gandalf. With a flash of blue electricity, Gandalf blocked the attack with his sword, now shining with arcs of blue energy.

"Wait for an opening and shoot her!" Mala barked at her team as they watched the Wizard duel the Inquisitor. Between the blue sparks of Gandalf's weapon and the red humm of the Inquisitor's lightsaber, it was hard to see what was happening.

"They're moving too fast, ma'am! We can't get a shot!" One rebel yelled over the fighting.

"Just wait for the opening, Grey Three." Mala Replied. "Wait…"

"The ring has corrupted your soul!" Gandalf yelled, pushing the Thirteenth Sister back with a blast from his staff.

"I was corrupted long before the ring came to me!" The Inquisitor screamed back. "The Empire saw to that!"

"Don't be a fool! You know in your heart the ring is not for your hands!"

"I will show you whose hands it belongs to!"

The two danced and swung around each other. Mala kept her blaster aimed at the Inquisitor's chest.

"That old man can really move." She thought to herself as Gandalf held his own, blade to blade with the Sister.

Suddenly, Gandalf fell back from a blow to the face. The Sister bore down on him, cackling. Her eyeless face glowed red with her blade.

"Oh, crap." Mala said.

The Ring now sat on the Thirteenth Sister's finger, which seemed to make her very blood glow with dark force power. Not even Gandalf had the strength to defeat the sheer amount of power flowing through the Inquisitor once that Ring was placed on her finger, and she knew it, for she had been testing her new strength on every purge trooper she came across as she strode through the fortress not a few hours earlier.

"You see?!" The Inquisitor shrieked. "You are nothing to me! With this ring, I can even defeat the Emperor himself! I will make him suffer for what he did to me! To us!"

"Open fire!" Mala shouted.

Grey Team opened fire, but was almost instantly all shot down with their own bolts as the Sister blocked everything that came her way. Five screams of pain, and it was all over. Mala went down with a bolt wound to her left abdominal. She grunted as the smoke of her own body entered her nose. She crawled her way behind a service console and tried to catch her breath.

"You see, old man?!" The Inquisitor squealed. "You have failed! You can die knowing your struggle was in vain."

Mala dared not look around the corner as the humm of the Sister's blade cut through the air. Suddenly, there was a blast of...something. She couldn't tell what it was, but whatever it was, it left the Inquisitor screaming. Mala peeked around the corner and watched as the Sister dropped her lightsaber, fell to her knees, and clutched her head in her hands.

"I can't see! Why can't I see!" She screamed. "What have you done to us?!"

Gandalf stood up and strode towards the inquisitor, his staff pointed at her head.

"I have shielded you from sensing force energy. You have left me no other choice. I am truly sorry." Gandalf said, then quickly brought his sword down on her. The blue energy of his sword cut through her neck, cleanly severing her head from her body. The Inquisitor fell limply before the wizard, but as her head rolled away, Mala almost thought she saw a content smile on the Sister's face, as if she was relieved to finally be dead.

"Grey Team! Sound off!"

"Grey two...ungh! I'm alive."

"Grey three. She just got my leg."

"Is that everybody?" Mala asked solemnly. "Brock? Samson? Yathir? Damn it..."

"Come, Mala," Gandalf said. "The Ring is here. We must retrieve it and leave. We may not have much time before we are discovered."

"One damn second!" Mala grunted as she crawled over to Grey Four's body. "I'm sorry, Samson."

She rolled him over and pulled the medkit from his vest. She opened it, pulled out the cans of bacta, tossed one to Grey Two, one to Grey Three, and opened one for herself. The bacta slid onto her abdominal wound, and an immediate cooling sensation coated the burn.

"One kidney down…" She groaned, standing up. "Grey Three, grab their tags and let's move out."

Mala staggered to the Inquisitor's body, pointed her blaster at her head, and shot some bolts into her face. When the smoke cleared, not much was left except for a burning hole in her skull.

"Mala-." Gandalf started. "She was a simple victim of evil, nothing more."

"I really don't give a damn what the Empire did to her." Mala said between clenched teeth. "Let's get what we came here for."

She bent down and pulled the Ring from the Sister's finger.

It was a ring of gold, simple and smooth, but it was strangely ominous, as though it was emanating anger and despair. She thought back to Gandalf's vision, of the massive creature in black armor. Mala felt an urge to throw it away, as far as she can throw it, to keep Sauron's evil far away from her. She imagined going crazy like the Inquisitor. She put it in her pouch and tried to ignore it was there.

"Let us leave." Gandalf said solemnly.

"Grey Team...we're heading out." Mala ordered. "I guess you can't sense the exit from here, huh?"

"I'm a wizard, not a map, young Mala."

"I see. We need a way out, Scraps. Can you set us up?"

Scraps beeped and began to scan the walls of the fortress. Grey Team followed behind the little Buzz Droid as it mapped out the fortress. The atmosphere of the team was grim and sober as they made their way back through the dark fortress, once again passing the corpses of Purge Troopers that littered the ground.

Mala felt her hair suddenly rise on the back on her neck. She ordered a halt and told everyone to get down.

"What is it?" Grey Two whispered.

"Shh." Mala hissed.

Mala looked to Gandalf, who seemed to also know what was coming. An inhuman screech came echoing through the halls, forcing a shudder down Mala's spine. It was far off yet, but she knew it was coming for them. For the ring. Gandalf whipped his head to Mala.

"Run!" He whispered.

Mala didn't wait to be told twice. She ordered Grey Team to get moving. Without hesitation, they all started limping down the halls as fast as they could go. Gandalf followed behind, consistently looking behind him for what was after them. Another screech bellowed through the halls, encouraging them to run faster.

Scraps desperately tried to scout ahead, scanning hallways as fast as he could. With every intersection in the seemingly endless corridors, the group had to stop for precious seconds to let Scraps figure out which turn to take.

"Come on, Scraps." Mala urged, the familiar feeling of despair creeping into her thoughts.

"We're fucked." Grey Three sputtered, his leg slowing him down.

"Keep going, Three!" Mala said, doubling back and putting his arm on her shoulder. "You are not dying on me! Not here!"

"Do not stop!" Gandalf called out.

The walls seemed to contort and change as they ran through them, as if the way forward was growing longer, and the way behind them was growing short. The screeching grew louder, as if they were directly behind them. Mala felt an extra shot of adrenaline hit her system.

"This place doesn't end!" Grey Two whimpered. "There's no way out!"

"Don't let despair lead you to surrender!" Gandalf yelled. "Fight it!"

"GIVE US THE RING, TWI'LEK!" Came a loud whisper through the hall.

Gandalf stopped and turned around. With a swing of his staff through the air, the walls on both sides slammed together, blocking the path just in time to stop the wraiths from overtaking them. The muffled sound of screeches and the whizz of energy blade-against-metal quietly disappeared as they ran.

After a few more turns through the maze of the Fortress Inquisitorius, they finally reached the outside.

"There's the landing pad! Come on!" Mala yelled as she used what little energy she had left to move her aching body to the U-Wing waiting for them.

Her legs ached, her lungs burned and her head was dizzy, but she knew whatever discomfort she was in now, it was nothing compared to the creatures behind them.

Shorkazza ran out of the ship and waved them over, then stopped in shock. Mala knew the look on the Wookiee's face.

Fear.

Mala knew it was behind them, but she turned around anyway.

Five. There were five of those things. Black robes blowing in the wind, blackened armor reflecting the light of the landing pad's perimeter lights. Each one was brandishing a glowing red blade that sparked and sputtered with arcane energy.

"FOOLS!" One of them shrieked. "YOU DOOM YOURSELVES"

"Shoot them, Kazz!" Mala screamed at Sorkazza.

Kazz shook out of his shock, ran back into the U-Wing, and aimed the side guns at the robed figures. The blaster bolts roared across the platform, ripping into the Wraith's armor. They let out a screech of rage, but the heavy blaster bolts merely paused their advance for a short moment.

Mala jumped onto the ship and pulled the stragglers into the hold. Gandalf was last. Mala held out her hand for him. He took it and pulled himself into the ship.

"Let's go!" Mala ordered.

Shorkazza abandoned the side gun, moved to the cockpit and put in the commands to lift off. Mala turned to give covering fire, but screamed when she came face-to-face with one of the wraiths, who was already climbing into the hold, holding a large dagger in its hand. Mala jumped away from the screeching monster as it lunged for her. The dagger slashed through the air and plunged into Grey Two's leg. Grey Two let out a scream. Gandalf groaned with effort and shoved his staff at the wraith, blasting the monster out the side of the ship. The wraith fell fifty feet to the platform and landed with a metallic thud.

Mala looked down at the five robed figures, who stood deathly still, watching them as they rose into the cloud cover.

"Home free." Mala sighed, plunking down onto the copilot seat.

"Not yet." Gandalf mumbled.

"What?"

"The Nazgul did not simply teleport here…"

"Don't tell me."

As they traveled through the clouds, the silhouette of a massive ship filled the viewport. The roar of a war horn broke through the hull of the U-Wing, ringing painfully in Mala's ears. The hulking ship blasted through the clouds, its sharp bow charging straight for the U-Wing at tremendous speed.

"Get us out of here, Kazz!" Mala yelled.

Kazz roared and jerked the controls to the right. The U-Wing broke right just in time to avoid being rammed into oblivion by the much larger ship. Kazz tried to keep the ship steady as they cut through the atmospheric turbulence caused by the Black Ship's titanic frame.

They blew past the Black Ship's stern and aimed the U-wing straight for space.

"Incoming flak! Brace, brace, brace! Kazz, we need fancy flying, now!" Mala ordered.

Kazz grunted loudly and punched in the commands for evasive maneuvers. Flak rounds lit the sky around them, violently shaking the ship and heating the air in the hold. Every explosion seemed to come closer to hitting them as they desperately evaded the incoming fire.

"We just have to break the atmosphere!" Mala yelled as flashes from the flak blinded their viewport, making it impossible to see what was a few meters past the nose of the ship.

"Are they coming after us?" Grey Three asked.

"They're too big to maneuver that well in the atmosphere. If we're lucky, we'll be out of flak range in five seconds." Mala replied.

The flashes of the incoming flak fell behind, but were replaced with the green light of a volley of turbolaser rounds.

"Damn it, just go!" Mala roared to her Wookiee pilot, who took the ship out of the evasive patterns and flew her straight upwards.

Mala hoped that the known fact that turbolasers were notoriously poor for hitting smaller ships, perhaps they could take advantage of it. Mala hoped, anyway, nervous sweat dripping down her red skin. As soon as the computer gave the all-clear to jump, Kazz aggressively flipped the hyperdrive lever. The stars elongated, and the U-Wing blasted into the blue tunnel of hyperspace. Everyone relaxed and sighed, catching their breath and letting their bodies drain off the adrenaline.

"That was close." Mala said quietly.

"Next time, we may not be so lucky." Gandalf sighed. "They have your scent now. Our only option is to keep moving."

"My scent?" Mala asked.

"They know who you are, and they will keep hunting that ring, which means no matter how far, how long you run from them, they will hunt you."

Grey Two let out a grunt of pain. He pulled his pant leg back to reveal a strange wound. His skin was black, and the veins around the wound were turning dark.

"We do not have much time, and neither does he." Gandalf said, eyeing the wound. "We must make all haste to Rivendell."

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Planet: Coruscant**

**Location: Imperial Palace**

**Subject: Sheev Palpatine**

Palpatine stared into the Palantir, as he had done so for hours. He couldn't let this enemy intimidate him. The plague is a lie. The Invasion is overplayed. His glorious Empire would not only push his invasion back, but they would also charge into the unknown regions and bring the fight to him.

"Emperor."

Palpatine looked up from the orb.

"Admiral." He said. "Have you news of the Outer Rim?"

"I do, Lord."

"Let's hear it. Go on! Do not waste my time."

"My lord...The retaking of Yaga Minor is underway. The fleets are over Mygeeto, and are preparing to advance to Scipio, and from there, retake Yaga."

"Good. Very Good. This new enemy must be destroyed."

"My Lord...there is more."

"Ah, yes. The bad news accompanies the good."

"Lord Emperor. News has spread of some worlds falling to a strange plague."

"Plague?"

"Yes, Lord. There is no known cure. Several systems have gone dark."

"Then discover the cure, Admiral. I will not tolerate losing any more worlds during this time of crisis."

"Yes, Lord."

"One more thing, Admiral."

"Of course."

"I have decided that we will begin construction of a new DS model battle station. It must be ready for deployment as soon as possible."

"My lord, a second Death Star? That would cost trillions-"

"I know what it will cost! You do not comprehend the importance of this weapon! The Death Star was the one chance we had at the ultimate destruction of Sauron and his precious Mordor. Without it, we doom ourselves to a decades-long war! It must be completed immediately. I do not care how many slaves you must harvest or how many credits you must spend!"

"My lord, the number of Executor-Class ships we could build with that money-"

"You...defy me?"

"No, my Lord, I just wanted to make sure-"

"I AM SURE!"

"It will be done. My Lord…"

"Admiral. When you return, I expect good news from Yaga Minor."

"Yes, Emperor."

The Admiral bowed and left. The massive doors closed, leaving Palpatine alone in his throne room. Palpatine sighed, then pulled the Palantir from his robe. He stared into it, never eating, never sleeping, only staring into the Palantir, deciphering the plans of the enemy.

/

**Year: 0BBY**

**Location: Rivendell, Council Courtyard**

**Subject: Marcos Rey**

The warm breeze of the massive ship's habitat generators washed across Marcos' face as he sat, waiting impatiently for whatever the elves had brought him here for. He looked at the empty chairs, placed in a neat circle, all empty save for his own. He crossed his arms and sighed impatiently. He would've asked what was going on, but he figured his pointy-eared hosts would have given him a cryptic and useless reply, so he did what he was told, and he sat patiently, taking in the breeze and the artificial sunlight.

After some time, his eyes began to close on their own. The warmth of the air and the sound of wind in the trees was relaxing, and it didn't help that the elvish robes he was wearing were softer than anything he had ever worn. Try as he might, he couldn't resist the urge to let his eyelids seal fully, and he drifted off into sleep.

Gû kîbum

NO LIFE

kelkum-ishi,

IN COLDNESS,

burzum-ishi.

IN DARKNESS.

Akha gûm-ishi

THERE IS NO LIFE IN THE VOID,

ashi

ONLY

gurum.

DEATH

"Lord Rey?"

Marcos awoke with wide eyes, his breathing heavy and frantic. He had a headache and was dehydrated. A hand was holding his shoulder, which made him flinch, but he soon realized it was the soft fingers of the elf healer that watched over him the last few days. The elf noticed his discomfort and removed her hand.

"Sorry, just another damn nightmare." Marcos said, straightening himself in his chair and looking at the elf standing over him.

"No…" The elf said, pressing a hand to his head. "It's not. It will get worse."

"I barely sleep as it is." Marcos replied sternly. "You guys have a lot of high-tech stuff here, can't you do something about it?"

"There is little anyone can do against it." The elf replied. "But that is why we are gathered here."

"Eh?" Marcos grunted.

Ashe asked, two more figures came into view from behind the far wall. Elrond, the head guy, as far as he could tell, and an Imperial Officer, dressed in Commander's colours.

"Commander Tarwin?" Marcos asked, standing from his chair. "What are you doing here?"

"I guess the same as you." Vanick replied. "And you are?"

"Sergeant Rey, Third Company, Iridonian Garrison," Marcos replied.

"Relax, Sergeant, this isn't a parade." Vanick chuckled. "Wait...Rey…"

Vanick's expression shifted as he realized who he was talking to. "You're the-"

"I was the scheduled execution, sir." Marcos said as proudly and professionally as he could muster.

"I see." Vanick said softly. "For assaulting an officer, if I recall correctly."

"Yes, sir."

"Who was it again?"

"Lieutenant Cull."

Vanick's expression turned from grim to amused.

"Oh, Cull?" Vanick thought for a moment, "Well. Considering everyone who knew about your execution is probably dead now, let's wave the execution, have you demoted to Corporal, and leave it at that."

"Sir?" Marcos asked, furrowing his brow with confusion.

"Tell me…" Vanick whispered. "Did it feel good?"

"Uh…"

Marcos tried to read the situation. Was Commander Tarwin testing him for something? He tried to read the Commander's face. He didn't know the man. To Marcos, Tarwin was just another Garrison Commander in a long line of Garrison Commanders that came and went. He never bothered to get to know any of them. Now, he wished he had, it might have helped him here.

Suddenly, Marcos noticed Tarwin's mouth, his stern expression breaking only minutely. Out of the corner of the Commander's mouth, the faintest hint of a grin curled upward. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make Marcos grin slightly in return. Tarwin finally broke his facade fully and grinned from ear to ear.

"I hope you made it hurt. I couldn't stand the man. Too arrogant with nothing to show for it." Vanick chuckled sadistically. "You know what? I think that deserves a field promotion for bravery! Congratulations, Sergeant Rey. Try not to make a habit of punching officers, even if they are complete incompetents."

Marcos relaxed and allowed himself a laugh as the Commander let out a loud guffaw.

"Now, I hope our hosts have been treating you well, Sergeant." Vanick said, scanning the trooper up and down.

"They patched me up good, sir." Marcos replied. "You know why they brought us both here?"

"Not sure." Vanick replied. "But- oh, here come some more. Excuse me."

Vanick moved off to greet the other surviving troopers that were saved from the Incorruptible. They all saluted him, but Vanick quickly dismissed the formalities. Marcos watched, still confused. This Tarwin guy didn't have any mannerisms befitting an Officer of his status. No posturing, no pretense, he almost seemed happy to be surrounded by the common soldiery.

"Bosch!" Vanick shouted. "You old dog, I thought you were dead for sure!"

"Take more than an exploding Destroyer to kill me, sir." Commander Bosch grunted. "When do you want to begin commandeering this ship?"

"Commandeering the-" Vanick said before stopping himself. "Lieutenant Commander, a word please."

Vanick and Bosch both looked at Marcos, who realized he was quite noticeably eavesdropping. The two officers moved out of hearing distance and whispered among themselves. Marcos watched as they both grew more impatient with each other until Bosch walked away in a huff.

"Why do they have us all grouped up?" One of the troopers asked.

"No idea." Said another. "All I know is they didn't feed and shelter us just to round us up and to kill us."

"No, but these are non-humans. We can't trust them."

"Hey." Marcos said. "Aliens or not, they saved all our asses. Maybe you should show some respect for the people you owe your life to."

"We don't have to listen to you, criminal scum." The trooper replied, giving Marcos a dirty look.

"Rank on the uniform says otherwise, Private." Marcos replied coldly.

"Gentlemen!" Elrond called out as he entered the courtyard. "Please, take your seats."

The Imperials all looked at each other, then begrudgingly moved to the row of seats in the far end of the yard. Marcos leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.

Soon, a group of more elves, along with members of other species entered the courtyard. A Mon Calamari, a Sullustan, a Twi'lek female, a Wookiee and a couple of humans, one was old, carried a wooden staff, and wore a strange grey robe and pointy hat. The other human was a middle-aged female, dressed in old republic senator's robes. The Imperials and the newcomers all looked at each other with confusion and suspicion.

"What is going on here? What is a Mon Calamari and a Wookiee doing here?" Bosch asked, standing up and eyeing the aliens. "You better explain what's going on here, elf."

"Bosch, you will keep silent." Vanick hissed.

"But sir-"

"That's an order!"

Bosch was speechless. He looked between Vanick and Elrond a few times, then sighed and slumped into his seat.

"You have been assembled here because you represent the main factions in the galaxy." Elrond explained. "You also have firsthand experience of the invasion that befalls us."

The group remained silent, having all been briefed about Mordor and the forces from the Unknown Regions. Marcos believed very little of what they had to say. Magic and necromancy. Cursed rings and the "Force". There were no such things. Not anymore. Not in his experience. What he did know is whoever the invaders are, they took out a Star Destroyer in about a minute or so, and that was impossible to dismiss as mere superstition. Magical or not, this new enemy was dangerous.

"Already, Sauron's forces advance on Mygeeto." Elrond continued. "When he does, he will establish a foothold in this galaxy too strong to repel."

"If that is true, then are we simply here to discuss the terms of surrender?" Bosch asked sarcastically, "Or do you propose some sort of solution to this grim situation?"

"I do." Elrond replied. "Mala Pong. Present the ring."

Mala looked to Gandalf, who nodded reassuringly. She stood up and removed the ring from her belt pouch. She looked at it, and felt a strange urge to put it on. Remembering the briefing about the Ring's addictive property, she wasted no time by quickly moving to the small stone table in the middle of the courtyard and placing the ring on it.

"This ring is the solution you ask of me, Rojar Bosch." Elrond explained. "With it, we hold the fate of the galaxy in our hands."

"Ludicrous." Bosch grumbled. "It's a ring."

"I said the same." Mothma said, standing up from her chair. "But Palpatine wanted this ring for a reason."

"Palpatine?" Vanick asked. "The Emperor wants this ring?"

"He does." Mothma replied.

"I really must apologize, but this raises too many questions!" Bosch complained. "Who are you, and how do you have such information on the Emperor? How do you expect me to believe that this ring is in any way connected to the invasion? How do you expect to win a war with...with jewelry?!"

"I am a senator of the Republic." Mothma explained. "And representative of the Alliance to restore said Republic. As such, I have access to information you may not be so lucky to possess."

"If you are Alliance, then you are a rebel and a traitor!" Bosch yelled.

"This is getting us nowhere," Elrond said, raising his voice. "We all must put aside these grievances and realize the true threat that faces us."

"Say I believe that this ring is in some way the method by which we defeat the invasion," Bosch inquired, "What are we to do with it?"

"Destroy it." Gandalf stated.

"From what we can gather," Mothma added, "This ring keeps Sauron, the mastermind behind this invasion, tethered to reality. We destroy this ring, we destroy Sauron."

"Then hand me a blaster," Marcos chimed in. "I'll win this war right now."

"It is not so easy." Elrond explained. "The ring is protected by dark energies. It will take more than anything we here possess to destroy it."

"Then aim a turbolaser at it. Not much can survive that." said Marcos.

"You do not understand." Gandalf interrupted. "There is but one way to destroy it."

"The ring must be carried into the unknown regions, straight to the Mordor System, where it must be cast into the fires of Mount Doom. Only then will it be destroyed forever."

"Mount Doom…" Marcos chuckled, "Is that next to Spooky Valley?"

"The reason we have brought you here," Elrond continued, trying to ignore the comments from Marcos, "Is to assemble a fleet to carry the ring into the Unknown Regions."

"A fleet to carry...this ring...straight into the great void of nothing." Bosch mumbled. "Ludicrous."

"I have to say I agree, though it pains me to agree with an Imperial." The Mon Calamari added. "The Calamari government would never agree to devote resources to this. Our fleets are needed here."

"Your fleets are needed here to endanger Imperial citizens?" Bosch said, getting out of his chair. "Fishface scum."

"Your reign will come to an end one day, Imperial!" The Mon Calamari shouted, standing up to meet the officer. "You will pay for your crimes against the galaxy!"

"Let's add one more crime to that list then!" Another Imperial trooper shouted, jumping out of his chair.

The rest of the stormtroopers followed suit. Vanick tried to order them to sit back down, but his voice disappeared underneath the insults thrown between Imperial and Rebel.

"Enough!" Elrond said, his voice echoing over the crowd's bantering. "If you do not believe it, then put it on."

"Elrond…" Gandalf whispered.

Elrond didn't take his eyes off the Lieutenant Commander. Bosch looked at the ring, then to Elrond.

"Surely, if you do not believe in this ring's importance, then putting it on would be no issue." The elf jeered, raising an eyebrow.

"You know what that will do." Gandalf advised.

"We will move the fleet before the Nazgul get here." Elrond replied.

Bosch stroked his greying beard, moved his finger over his scars, then stepped up to the table. The ring sat innocently still on the table. Bosch looked down at it, as if he was waiting for it to move on its own. After a few seconds, he picked up the small gold object, and slid it on his finger.

The crowd all gasped and exclaimed curses native to their planet as Bosch's body disappeared entirely from sight. Marcos shot forward in his chair and looked around frantically. Surely he didn't just disappear, maybe it was a cloaking device or a teleporter of some kind. Gandalf lowered his head and sighed.

"Elrond, where is my XO?" Vanick asked urgently.

"You shall see." Elrond answered.

Within a few seconds, Bosch reappeared where he was standing previously. He staggered backward from the table, yelling in fear. The Ring dropped to the floor and rolled down before Marcos. Bosch hit the floor panting and sweating.

"Who was that?! The voice! The eye!" Bosch whimpered.

"That was your true enemy, Imperial," Elrond explained. "And he is coming for all of us sooner or later. This ring ties him to this realm. We destroy it or we die."

"I will have to pull some strings with the Mon Calamari Admiralty." The Mon Calamari said hesitantly.

"You know you have my support. I've told you as much already." Vanick said. "Though I'm not sure about my men."

"What say you?" Elrond said, looking down at the recovering Commander Bosch. "Do you take up this task?"

Bosch stood up and cleaned off his uniform.

"I've served the Empire since its inception. I've survived the vacuum of space, been shot, stabbed, mauled, and burnt. I've seen cruelty and horror beyond my own imagination." Bosch said. "But not once was I afraid. Today, that changed the moment that ring slid onto my finger. What I saw, what I heard, it made me truly...afraid. If what you say is true, then for the sake of the Empire, this ring must be destroyed."

"The Alliance is prepared to temporarily truce with the Empire until the forces of Mordor are beaten back." Mothma stated.

"You know the Empire will not recognize your truce." Vanick mentioned.

"We know that. But the Empire is just as distracted as we are, perhaps they'll even forget about us altogether." Mothma replied with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Then we who are here at this meeting will accept the ceasefire," Vanick said, standing up and holding his hand to the senator.

Mothma took his hand and shook, giving him a weak smile.

"You're not a true Imperial officer, are you?" She said.

Vanick grinned in response.

"Is it settled then?" Elrond asked, looking at those who haven't replied yet.

The troopers nodded reluctantly.

"And you?" Elrond looked to Marcos, who was inspecting the ring in his hands.

Marcos slipped the ring around and around, trying to find a button, a switch, or any sign of technology inside. It wasn't just a gold ring. It couldn't be. One thing was certain. It wasn't normal.

"If you say it needs to be destroyed to keep the galaxy safe, then by all means." Marcos said, standing up and placing the ring back on its table.

"We will need ships and men." Elrond said. "And a place to safekeep the ring for the journey."

"That is a problem," Vanick said. "The Empire will never agree to this. Not alongside rebels, and especially not after the disappearance of Admiral Thrawn in the Unknown Regions ten years ago. If he couldn't navigate it, then how could we?"

"They will never believe us anyway," Bosch added. "They will think it as ludicrous as I did just minutes ago. The Empire wouldn't give us a single TIE fighter, let alone a fleet."

"You must try." Elrond said. "The galaxy is depending on us, and only us, to do this."

Vanick looked at the floor for a moment.

"I could talk to my father." He said finally. "He might listen to family."

"Admiral Tarwin?" Bosch exclaimed. "The second he hears we were five meters from a rebel and we didn't shoot them on sight, he'll have us butchered!"

"We have to try," Vanick argued. "It's either that or risk losing the galaxy."

"The Alliance is poised and ready," Mothma said. "We will have a fleet ready within the fortnight."

"I will provide you with transportation," Elrond said, speaking to the Imperials. "We will meet in three weeks in the Hoth system."

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Planet: Scipio**

**Location: Imperial Trenches**

**Subject: Darth Vader**

The air was deathly cold, and windy, shooting loose snow into the air. Every eye was staring out into the tundra, waiting for the inevitable waves of black armor to return. Blasters were pointed downrange. AT-ST's stood motionless over the trenches, towering over the thousands of exhausted white-armored troopers. Piles of dead littered the land in front of them. He snow was scorched from blaster fire and covered in the blood of the dead.

Above, the exchange of turbolaser fire lit the clouds green. There would be no air support for them.

The plan had gone wrong. The enemy had not stayed on Yaga Minor but had advanced to Scipio. Retaking Yaga Minor was no longer an objective. The new task of the Imperial armada was to keep the enemy from advancing any farther into Imperial space, but it was most likely too late. The enemy had splintered into several smaller fleets and was now spreading out into the Outer Rim. Now troopers were falling ill to an unknown disease, which reduced the fighting force to almost sixty percent of what they began with before even a shot was fired.

Darth Vader looked out into the blizzard, his visor barely assisting with seeing farther than fifty meters out from the trench line. To have him on the frontline served as a morale booster. The Jedi Hunter was on the field. Nothing could stop him. Not even this new enemy.

Be that as it may, the radio chatter was deathly silent. Nobody had the energy to speak. Nobody had slept in two days. The seemingly endless number of creatures the enemy had at their disposal was without respite. Even the officers would have to slap themselves in the face to keep themselves awake.

Then, like so many times before, the ground began to rumble. The radio chatter sprang to life. Commands were issued, blasters were charged, and vehicles started their engines. Vader took the lightsaber from his belt and ignited the blade, casting a red glow over the scorched and bloodied snow.

The sound of drums filled the air again. The war chants of thousands of voices cut through the wind like it had done every time another wave was thrown at them. The sound of tens of thousands of feet marching in unison shook the ground with their approach.

A trooper to Vader's side was shaking uncontrollably, the barrel of his blaster swinging in every direction.

"You are a soldier of the Empire," Vader said over the radio. "You have conquered worlds. You have kept the peace in this galaxy for decades. You have left the bodies of uncountable enemies in your wake. No force can withstand your might. Not the Jedi, not the Rebels, not this rabble. You have the power of the galaxy behind you. You will hold this line."

The nearby trooper stopped shaking and pressed the butt of his blaster tightly into his shoulder. As the black outline of the oncoming horde began to emerge through the snow, the command to open fire was called. An ocean of red blaster fire shot across the tundra into the black horde. The war chants were replaced with screeches and roars as the marching quickly changed to charging, shaking the ground more intensely.

Vader watched as hundreds of these Orc creatures fell, only to be replaced with hundreds more. The wave of black armor slowly closed the gap between them and the Imperial line. AT-ATs shot rounds into the horde from above, sending dozens of orc bodies and limbs into the air, but still, it was not enough. The horde had closed the gap, and Orcs began to jump blindly into the trenches, brandishing primitive blades and blasters.

Vader took his stance and waited for the wave of orcs to reach him. Inevitably, they did, and inevitably, they fell one by one to his lightsaber. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as orcs fell before him by the dozen.

The troopers weren't as lucky. The battle had turned into a melee brawl. Troopers desperately fought off the horde with the buts of their rifles, with rocks, with shovels, with enemy weapons, with anything they could find. Once the line stopped firing into no man's land, the wave of orcs only grew denser. With what strength in the force Vader had left, he reached his arm along the trench line, and grabbed as many orcs as he could, snapping the necks of hundreds all at once.

It still wasn't enough. The command to fall back was given, but so few troopers were capable of recreating that it made little difference. The trench was overrun, and this was just the beginning.

Vader heard a roar of one of the bigger creatures coming through the snow. It was a fully armored troll, charging straight for him. He held his arm out and force-pulled the troll to the ground. The troll hit the ground chin-first but was quickly replaced by two more of his kind, each brandishing a massive mace. They came charging and roaring towards the sith lord, who made quick work of the beasts, cutting through their massive weapons, then decapitating both with a single throw of his lightsaber.

It was impossible to see the whole line through the blizzard, but the trench was taken. The troopers that could fall back fell back, the ones that couldn't died brutally. Vader backed slowly from the trench, still fighting off the waves of enemies that came over the trench towards him.

Suddenly, a shriek of a Nazgul broke through the sound of battle. Vader looked up to watch a massive flying creature hit the ground in front of him, shooting up snow and dirt. The rider wore elaborate armor and a helmet shaped like a crown. His black cape flew behind him in the wind

"Fool." It hissed through the air. "Your retaliation has failed. You should have run when you had the chance."

Vader ignored the rider and immediately went for the winged creature's neck. The creature roared and lunged for the Sith, but Vader evaded the creature's maw, and with one quick slice, the creature's head fell to the ground. Its body contorted, knocking the Nazgul rider off the creature.

The Nazgul wasted no time remaining his footing and drawing a massive blade from his belt. The black blade sprang to life with red energy.

"I am Misery and Death!" The Nazgul hissed. "I am the Dark Marshall! You will die this day."

"Attack then, Dark Marshall." Vader replied calmly.

The Nazgul strode aggressively toward the Sith Lord. Blade met blade, the Dark Marshall's madness reflected in the unpredictable swinging of his weapon. Vader analyzed his enemy. With each parry and thrust, he watched how he fought. Soon, patterns emerged from the madness. The screeching rang in his ears, but Vader remained calm as this creature bore down on him.

Vader kept learning as they fought, and eventually, a finely-time attack was able to knock the weapon from the creature's hands. The blade flew into the blizzard.

The Nazgul screech of rage rang across the battlefield. Vader moved to stab through the Marshall's armor. The lightsaber slid easily through the plate armor, but the Nazgul did not fall. It laughed.

"I will enjoy your agony, Sith." It whispered.

It stepped backward, letting the lightsaber slide out of his gut. All that came out of the wound was a spurt of black smoke. The Marshall backed away from the confused Vader, only to be replaced with a wave of Orcs, who seemed more rabid than they had ever been. Vader punched the earth, sending a shockwave across the snow, staggering the mass of Orcs, but not enough to stop their momentum.

It was as Vader prepped to fight to the death against the wall of black armor and gnashing teeth that a volley of blaster fire erupted from behind him. The Orcs began to crumple like ragdolls before him. Orc after Orc fell, creating a hill of bodies that only grew higher and higher. Vader looked behind him to see who had come to his resscue. Who else but Vader's Fist themselves. The best of the best.

Vader backed away and joined the line of his Legion. The 501st began its tactical retreat, one line firing, and the other line retreating until the Nazgul's shrieks of rage faded in the blizzard wind. The Orcs slowly dwindled in numbers as the 501st fell back to the second trench line.

"Come on!" screamed the troopers in the trench as Vader and the stragglers jumped down into the protection of the trench.

"Tell your commander that the first line has fallen." Vader said to the officer with a holo-communicator. "If we do not receive air support soon, be prepared to withdraw."

"Yes, Lord Vader." The trooper replied.

Suddenly, Vader felt a pulse of Dark Side energy pass through him like a wave. The feeling that they were all being watched crawled into his senses, but he couldn't pinpoint who or what. All he knew is something powerful in the Dark Arts was out there, watching them.

"Sir!" Another trooper yelled. "There's something coming!"

Vader turned. Were they already pressing another attack? How did they have the numbers?

His questions were soon answered as a shuffling horde approached through the snow. They were all in stormtrooper armor, but their pace was slow and shambling.

"Wait, that's our guys! Hold fire!" The trench commander yelled. "Come on! You can make it!"

The troopers all waved and shouted for their fellow soldiers to double-time it to the trench before another attack came, but the exposed troopers didn't run. Their slow shuffle barely changed at all. The trench's calls of encouragement began to die until the entire second line was silent.

"What...what's wrong with them?" A trooper asked.

"Are they injured?" Another said.

Vader sensed no emotion from the retreating troopers. No thought, no feeling. Nothing.

"Open fire," Vader said over the radio. "Those are corpses, not troopers."

"It can't be..." An officer said, squinting into the blizzard.

"What, are they...dead?" Another asked.

Vader's fears were confirmed once the horde was close enough to fully make out through the snow. Their armor was covered in wounds and burn marks from the last few days of battle. Some were shambling on one leg, some were crawling on the ground using only their arms. Only gurgles, clicks and moans could be heard as they approached.

"Oh, Emperor protect us..." The trench commander said. "Open fire!"

Suddenly, the line realized what was upon them, and opened fire. Somehow, the enemy had brought their own men back from death itself to fight against them. Panic quickly grew throughout the line as the wall of undead drew slowly nearer. Thousands of rounds flew into the horde, but very few of the undead were killed or even phased by the incoming fire. No matter how many rounds were fired into their decaying bodies, they continued their slow advance.

"They aren't going down!"

"Sir, they're right on top of us! What do we do!"

"We have to run! We have to run!"

Vader would not lose another trench to this enemy. He threw his lightsaber into the horde, slicing off limbs and cutting some in half. As he watched the trajectory of the saber, he realized the pattern: the decapitated ones didn't get back up.

"Aim for the heads!" Vader yelled over the radio.

By the time the troopers shifted their aim to the mindless creature's heads, it was too late to hold them back. Hundreds of undead troopers fell limply into the trench, covering the living troopers underneath in mountains of rotting flesh and clawing hands. The survivors fired desperately at the enemy's heads, trying to keep the tide at bay. Some troopers were unfortunate enough to be ripped apart by the many undead that had broken through. The 501st picked up the slack and were quick enough with their aim that they were able to hold off much of the tide. Machine gunners and turrets fired everything they had, ripping apart hundreds with the power of their weapons.

Vader held his section of the line single-handedly. The walking corpses would come, and Vader would pull power from the dark side, ripping dozens of their heads off with the flick of his hand. Eventually, with the help of the overhead fire provided by the few AT-ATs and AT-STs that remained intact, the undead were slowly whittled away until a few dozen stragglers and a few legless crawlers remained. They were easily taken care of with a few quick shots to the head.

The victory was won, but the cost was tremendous. The trench was in shambles. To see their own men return from the dead was too much for some to bear. The Trench Commander was found shooting round after round in the heads of every corpse around him, even those he already shot. His screaming was incoherent, and his body was taken over by panic. It took three troopers to hold him down and calm him.

Piles of corpses clogged the trench, slowing medics from being able to reach blocked-off casualties. The smell was unbelievable. Some troopers just stared into space, muttering. Some tried to empty the trench of the bodies. Some tried to dig through the piles to find survivors buried deep underneath. Some refused to leave their post in case more came.

Vader looked over the snowy landscape. What were they truly up against? The dark presence returned through the snow. That feeling of being watched came back. Vader looked out into the blizzard and thought he caught a glimpse of a figure standing out in the open. He could barely make out the shape of a black cloak and staff before the figure turned and faded from view. Who possessed the power to bring back the dead? How many more horrors did this enemy have in store?

"Lord Vader." An officer called.

"What is it?" Vader asked, his eyes still scanning the landscape.

"The Commander has gone mad, he's...he's temporarily unfit for command. I think that makes you the senior rank."

"Good. Empty the trench of the bodies. Burn the dead and ensure their heads are destroyed. We don't need any more surprises. The mentally unwell will be treated and returned to the line. We need every soul pointing a weapon at the enemy. Contact Moff Kaine and update him on how miserably his plan has failed his men."

As soon as Vader finished his message, a squadron of Umbar Bombers roared overhead. The wide, black craft soared past, dropping its payload of Black Fire Bombs over the trench. The black liquid erupted into green flame as it hit the ground, and it spread quickly. Screams and cries filled the radio traffic as entire squads of the surviving troopers were engulfed in the green inferno.

"Lieutenant. Look at me. Do not look at them." Vader said, trying to keep the officer focused as the screams intensified. "Relay that- give the holo-communicator to me, then!"

Vader impatiently grabbed the holo-communicator from the traumatized officer and switched it on. "Kaine. Where is my air support? Where is my artillery?"

"We are busy up here, Vader!" Kaine's hologram replied, the sounds of the ensuing space battle bled through the transmission. "We will send it when we aren't risking the dropships being destroyed mid-flight! Hold out until I contact you!"

"The emperor will hear of your negligence," Vader said before crushing the communicator in his hand and giving it back to the officer. "If the Moff wants to talk to me, he can come down here himself and see what he has done."


	7. Gamble

**Year: 1ABY**

**Ship: Eldar Hyperspace Shuttle**

**Destination: ORD Canfre System**

**Subject: Vanick Tarwin**

Hyperspace always made Vanick feel unwell. Something about the spiralling tunnel of blue light always made his stomach feel like it was spinning along with it. The Elf-designed shuttle had many windows to look out of, and was obviously designed with diplomatic and ambassadorial passengers in mind. The gold trimmings of the walls and archways matched the style of Rivendell's architecture, down to the wooden chairs and murals of battles long past.

"The Elves have a knack for aesthetic, don't they?" Vanick said to his XO.

"Waste of time and energy, if you ask me." Bosch replied. "Give me a good old-fashioned Imperial shuttle anyday."

"Over this?" Vanickl said, bewildered. "You must be joking."

"I've served the empire for thirty years. I'm an old dog. I like my old tricks."

"Hmm."

Vanick looked to the troopers keeping their distance from the officers, all sitting together in the far corner of the cabin, out of casual eavesdropping distance.

"These Elves are suspicious." Bosch said after a moment of silence. "Clearly, they have a fleet of their own. Why do they make us risk our own lives?"

"Good question." Vanick replied. "I overheard some of them talking about leaving this galaxy soon. Perhaps they're washing their hands of this whole mess altogether."

"And go where, exactly? Firefist?"

"Some galaxy they call Valinor. I overheard some of them discussing the logistics of some sort of species-wise migration. I don't know how far it is from here."

"So they send us on our merry way into the Unknown Regions on an errand, then they plan to run off to another galaxy and leave us in the mud." Bosch mumbled. "Cowards."

"I don't know why these Elves are doing what they're doing." Vanick said. "Obviously, we can expect little help from them. We have to figure this out ourselves."

"Hopefully Admiral Tarwin is in a mood to listen when we get there." Bosch mumbled.

"My father? He's never in a mood to listen, but what choice do we have?" Vanick asked in a harsh tone.

Vanick looked down and ran his hand through his hair.

"You have beef with your father?" Bosch asked. "Every time I say his name, you turn real irritable."

"It's not important." Vanick snapped. "I'd rather not discuss my family affairs."

"Fine, fine." Bosch said, raising his hands defensively. "But you kinda just answered my question, whether you wanted to or not."

Vanick sighed.

"My family is a house of officers and politicians." Vanick said reluctantly. "Before I was even born, my path in life was already carved out for me: Become an Officer in the Imperial Navy like my father before me, progress through the ranks until I reach Admiral, bring the house honour, blah, blah, blah…"

Vanick sighed and readjusted himself in his seat.

"Of course, my desires and interests were never taken into consideration." He continued. "So here I am: a navy officer that gets motion sick during hyperspace travel! I hate shuttles, I hate the concept of orbital bombardment, and I hate that I probably only made Commander because my dad paid the Admiralty to shoot me up to the top of the list. Now here I am, inexperienced and unprepared, about to take a fleet into the unknown regions to stop a galactic threat from potentially destroying everything we know and hold dear. All because my father wanted himself for a son."

Bosch looked away towards the opposite wall and sighed.

"Well." Bosch said awkwardly. "I wanted to be a florist, so I guess we all got screwed, didn't we?"

Vanick shook his head in disbelief. "You? Lieutenant Commander Rojar Bosch, the man who almost coaxed me into bombarding a planet, wanted to be a florist? You?!"

"Ah, don't make a big deal of it." Bosch said, his cheeks turning red. "That was decades ago, before the Clone Wars even started."

"Then why are you here?" Vanick asked. "Come on, I've given you my life story. Quid Pro Quo, Commander."

Bosch sighed loudly and rubbed his balding head.

"I was born on Empress Tita. Father was an Andris miner, mother was a Florist. She sold flowers and plants in the market. Plenty of people around, so business was good. Clone Wars happened. The CIS came and forced my dad and half the population to mine for them. Flower shop got shut down, mom was put in the mines for the war effort. She died."

"I'm sorry." Vanick said.

"I was a child." Bosch said. "The empire came years later and labeled the miners as traitors for aiding the CIS. Dad got sent to the labour camps. What does the Empire do with orphans? Conscript 'em. I guess they thought I was officer material, so here I am. XO for a shipless Commander."

"You stay loyal to the Empire, even after they took your father?" Vanick asked. Gf

"My father should have joined the resistance and fought the CIS occupation." Bosch said harshly. "My dad _was _a traitor. He was weak, capitulating to those Confederate bastards. Why should I care?"

"He probably saved your life. Droids don't care who they kill. Children, women, to them, rebels are rebels. If he was caught sympathising with a resistance movement, you probably wouldn't be here to hate him." Vanick argued.

"And look where it got me." Bosch grumbled, feeling the scar on his face. "Ever tell you how I got this?"

"No."

"Was on shore leave, on Naboo, of all places. Beautiful planet. Previous Commander and I were enjoying some local food, when, boom. I.E.D. goes off. Commander gets his head blown off. Some rebel Twi'lek, one of those rare red-skinned ones, came out of nowhere, cut me up with some sort of knife." Bosch said, making a cutting motion with his fist. "She was aiming for my neck. Now, she didn't recognize me, but I sure recognized her, and she was sitting right across from us at that council. Terrorists and scum. I tell you, this whole thing is a bad idea."

"I'm sorry the circumstances are uncomfortable." Vanicm said sympathetically. "You saw what that ring is. You've seen what this enemy can do, You were on the bridge when they attacked. Our shields did barely anything against that firepower."

"That's why I say to hell with the Unknown Regions! We stay and we protect the people of the Empire from this enemy! And while we're at it, we inform your father where the rebels will be in three weeks. We take a fleet to Hoth, we annihilate the rebels there, and the Emperor rewards us with early retirement, riches and property, or whatever we want."

"No." Vanick said sternly. "Let me explain one thing to you, Commander. I am not a treacherous man. If we surrender the Fleet's position to my father, we may lose any hope of ending this war quickly."

"We don't even know if the ring is truly the key to victory!" Bosch exclaimed. "For all we know, it's just a communication device! These elves could be lying. We could all be shot for associating with rebels."

"Keep your voice down!" Vanick hissed, looking over at the troopers who were pretending not to overhear their conversation. "We must not sow doubt. We go through with the plan. We destroy the Ring, or we die in service to the galaxy trying. We die serving every man, woman and child under our protection as Imperial officers. This mission _is_ protecting the people of the Empire. You can shoot me if you like, but you know this is the best path."

"I hope your father agrees with that and doesn't shoot us on the spot for treason."

"Agreed."

Vanick felt his nerves shoot through his spine as the Elf pilot announced the five-minute call. He knew what he was doing went against every doctrine the Empire had fed them for years. Working with rebels. It would be difficult to convince his father that this was not treason, but the entire galaxy was at stake. It made sense, and was probably even imperative, that the entire galaxy worked together. At least, until the war was over. Then we could go back to senselessly killing each other.

The shuttle jumped out of hyperspace, directly in the midst of a massive battle. Vanick had never seen so many Star Destroyers in one place, all firing barrages of green turbolader fire into a massive black ship in the distance.

"This is where you get off! Putting you on the Imperial flagship!" The Elf yelled as he dove out of the line of fire. With the press of a button on the Pilot's dashboard, Vanick and the rest of the Imperials became engulfed in a bright flash of energy. Vanick closed his eyes, and when the blinding white light dimmed, he found himself and the rest of them in the TIE hangar bay of the Dread, his father's Executor-Class flagship..

"Halt!" Came a voice from behind. "Identify yourself!"

Vanick turned to come face-to-face with the barrel of a TIE pilot's pistol.

"Lower your weapon, pilot. I'm Commander Tarwin, take me to my father, Admiral Draven Tarwin, or find somebody who can."

/

Vanick had never been inside an Executor-Class before. The ship was strangely peaceful, save for the alarm ringing through the halls. The usual vibrations of turbolaser turrets firing and the impact of enemy fire were muffled substantially compared to the normal Star Destroyer, no doubt due to its sheer size. The corridors went on forever, it seemed. Kilometers of halls filled the decks of the massive ship.

"Damn Elf couldn't have dropped us off closer to the bridge?" Bosch said, out of breath. "I'm too bloody old for a marathon!"

"Almost there." Vanick said, not knowing whether that was true or not.

Finally, they came across an elevator, which took them up the tower to the bridge. They exited the elevator and ran to the end of the hall. Doors to the bridge slid open, and Vanick was surprised to see that the Dreadnought's Bridge was practically the same size as any other Destroyer in the fleet.

"I figured it'd be bigger." Bosch whispered.

The man in the white uniform, looking over the battle through the bridge's window, turned to meet the guests. His jaw dropped..

"Vanick…" He said, shocked. "I thought...they said you were dead! The _Incorruptible-_"

"I survived." Vanick replied coldly. "We all did."

Admiral Tarwin approached his son, then embraced him, letting out a laugh of relief.

"I'm so very glad. I'm also glad to see even more men made it out of that disaster," Admiral Tarwin said, looking at Vanick's entourage. "But please, get your men off my bridge, we're in the middle of a battle, and very close to victory. Freshen up and we'll set you up with a new command. Now, you'll have to excuse me, I have a Black Fortress to destroy."

The Admiral turned and strode back to his position at the window. Vanick looked out at the exchange of laser fire. Flak rounds and missiles exploded in every direction.

Squadrons of Easterling Interceptors, extremely maneuverable, extremely sleek and intricately-decorated single-man craft, designed for agility and speed, were a strange contrast with the black and ugly silhouette of their mothership. The Easterlings and the Imperial TIEs danced around the capital ships like flies dancing around a corpse. Star Destroyers exploded in the distance, sending chunks of molten metal slamming into the hulls of any nearby ships.

The massive Black Fortress of Mordor, one of hundreds of such ships that have been spotted across the frontlines of the invasion, dwarfed the Star Destroyers that surrounded it by orders of magnitude, possibly comparable to the Dread itself. The volume of weaponry it brought to bare was overwhelming. The only saving grace was the way it fired wildly and in every direction without regard for ammo consumption or accuracy. The Dreadnought was protected by a barricade of other Imperial ships. A ship this size was invaluable for the fleets of the Empire, and not a single one could be lost.

A volley of missiles left the fortress, darted across the expanse, ramming into the hull of the Admiral's Dread, blasting shrapnel and Imperial soldiers into space. The bridge shook lightly with the impact, but was otherwise undamaged.

"Damn." the Admiral muttered. "Communications, tell Battle Group Bravo to concentrate fire on those missile silos! I want them taken out!

"Father." Vanick said. "We have to discuss something."

"Can it wait?!" Draven said impatiently.

"It's a matter of winning the war," Vanick said sternly.

Admiral Tarwin stiffened and turned around. "Vanick, I'm glad you're alive, but don't test my patience. If this isn't tactically relevant-"

"It is."

"Then go on. Out with it."

"We have a way to kill the mastermind behind this attack."

Draven raised an eyebrow. "We don't even know who is behind this invasion. How do you have a way to kill 'him' and how do you know who 'he' is?"

"Long story. Like you said, I shouldn't waste your time." Vanick said, trying to avoid a conversation about the Elves. "We have an artifact that is somehow connected to the life force of the commander of the invasion. We destroy it, we end the invasion."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draven exclaimed. "I don't have time for this nonsense."

Admiral Tarwin turned his back on his son, then hesitated.

"What artifact?" The old man asked quietly.

"A ring." Vanick said hesitantly. "Why?"

"A ring?" Draven said, urgently spinning around. "Where is it?"

"It's currently hidden from the enemy." Vanick replied. "I request permission to take a fleet into the unknown regions to destroy the artifact in the only place it can be destroyed."

Draven thought for a moment. "Who has the ring now?"

"That's not important-"

"WHO...has it?"

Vanick hesitated. "There is already a fleet assembling to take the ring into the Unknown Regions. The fleet has it."

"And this fleet is composed of?" Draven inquired suspiciously.

"Random ships."

"Of what? Traders? Fucking fishermen? Who?!"

Vanick sighed and whispered the answer.

"Rebel Alliance..."

"What?! You left the ring in the hands of the fucking rebels?!"

"This invasion threatens all of us. I felt it wise to not burn bridges with potential allies."

"Potential allies?! What in the hell compelled you-"

Draven's face contorted with rage, but relaxed slowly.

"Very well."

"What?"

"You have my permission to take the Tenth Expeditionary fleet into the Unknown Regions, to destroy the artifact,as you say, and bring an end to hostilities."

Vanick furrowed his eyebrows. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." His father replied. "You're my son. You have your mother's intuition, always have. I trust this...ridiculous sounding plan to end this war is born out of loyalty to protect the Empire and its citizens. I want this war to end just as much as you. If there's even the slightest chance we can end this once and for all, then so be it."

"That's not like you, sir."

"It's been five years since we last spoke. How much have _you_ changed since then? Why then can I not also do the same?"

Vanick was confused but relieved. "Thank you, sir. I will ensure the captains are briefed on their mission immediately."

"Good man. Good luck...Commodore." Draven said, a professional smile winced across his face.

Vanick blinked once or twice. "Commodore?"

"Every fleet needs a commander." Admiral Tarwin replied. "This is your operation. Do your mother proud."

"I will..." Vanick said reluctantly, saluting and turning to leave.

Once Vanick's face was turned, Admiral Tarwin's expression quickly sank into a scowl of fury. Once his son left the bridge and the door closed, he sped over to his communications officer.

"You." He said in a practiced professional tone, "My son, Commodore Vanick Tarwin, is a traitor to the Empire. Inform the Tenth Expeditionary Fleet Captains that when they rendezvous with the Rebel fleet, they are to engage both them and my son's ship. I want every Rebel ship vaporized. I want Vanick's body recovered from the debris and brought to Coruscant on a pike. I want the Ring found and brought to me to be taken straight to the Emperor. Understood?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"Make it so." He said, trying to wipe the utter disgust from his face.

His own son, cavorting with rebel scum. How did it come to this? What did he do wrong as a father to twist his son to such madness? What could he have changed? He looked out into the battle as the Black Fortress slowly blew apart under the combined fire of the dozens of Star Destroyer fleets. A brilliant flash filled the void, and the Black Fortress shattered, shooting tens of thousands of the orcs and men into space.

The small victory gave Draven a temporary respite from his son's treachery.

"Well done, everyone." The Admiral said professionally. "Have the TIE Squadrons pick off the last of the enemy fighters. Five hours forced rest for all hands tonight, in shifts. Refuel and repair, have the fleet ready to retake Garqi in three days."

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Location: Orthanc**

**Subject: Saruman**

"My lord, my forces are prepared to assault the core worlds." Saruman whispered, his hand contorting and twitching over his Palantir. "My armada is being prepared for war as I speak. Now is the time. The galaxy cannot stand against us, now. They are divided and without hope."

_Throquluuk _

_DEVOUR THEM ALL_

"It will be done, my Lord." Saruman replied, removing his hand from the Palantir and moving towards his throne.

Saruman pressed a button on his armrest, activating a small hologram of a Kaminoan.

"Master Istari, they are ready for inspection." The Kaminoan said.

"Good. I will be there shortly." Saruman said.

Saruman strode through his orbital station. The halls, once coated with vegetation and life now sat sterile and grey. Saruman passed by a viewport and looked down at the planet below. The once lush world of Isen III now sat barren and stripped of all resources. Smoke filled the air, blocking the view of the now black and lifeless oceans. No trees remained, cut down to make room for the factories of war. Saruman's armada sat motionless in space as droids and shuttles flew back and forth from the dark cloud covered planet, fueling and arming the bluntly-designed ships.

The ships were all uniform in design, sleek and unpainted, designed as basic as possible as to be mass-produced quickly and efficiently. They were low-profile, being as flat as possible while still providing an arsenal of weapon platforms and shield generators. The bridge was hidden deep inside the hull, reducing its vulnerability to incoming fire. The hull was tapered, wide in the back for the large engines, and skinnier in the front to ram other ships, should it become necessary. The only decoration of note covering the plain black hulls of each warship was the symbol of the White Hand of Saruman. Saruman smiled with pride as he looked over the hundreds of ships already built, with thousands more on the way.

Finally, he came to his destination: the cloning facilities. The Kaminoan cloners were at the door, ready to invite their employer to see their work.

"Master Istari. Welcome. I think you will be most impressed." Han Se stated as the wizard approached them.

Han Se, once a brilliant Kaminoan scientist and leader in the development of new technologies and methods, now ostracized by the Kaminoan government for unethical genetic engineering of clones, had found a great deal of opportunity from wealthy patrons outside of the Empire's jurisdiction. Most of these wealthy donors bought his services for cloning private bodyguards or fighters for the gambling pits, caring little for ethics, expecting only results.

Han Se, having free roam to experiment and research under the patronage of these rich businessmen and gangsters, cared little about what happened to his creations after the money was paid, only that he was able to do his research without restrictions or hindrance. Han Se had very few clients who gave him the opportunity to demonstrate his true potential as a master cloner, but Saruman's request for the ultimate army was certainly an exception.

"Show me what you have built." Saruman said.

"Of course. This way." Han Se said, showing his employer to the door.

The catwalks above the cavernous expanse, carved out of the center of the station solely for the purpose of cloning, was filled with great towers of cloning canisters, each filled with embryos and partially-formed creatures. Below, the battalions of Uruks were assembled, gathered in massive formations. Having spared no expense with their armor and weapons, each one was covered head-to-toe in thick black body armor, and each was armed with a vibroblade and a heavy blaster.

"Created from Orc, Mandalorian and Human DNA, as you requested." Han Se explained. "They are aggressive, loyal and extremely deadly. I believe they are some of my finest work."

"I wish to go down." Saruman said.

"Of course."

The Uruks stood quietly at attention, save for the occasional grunt or heavy breathing. Saruman walked through the ranks.

"Their metabolisms are too fast." Saruman said, sensing the Uruk's heartbeats. "Do not tell me you have built me creatures that will burn out in a matter of months."

"Sacrifices had to be made to retain the strength and energy levels." Han Se explained. "If it satisfies you, I will place a warranty on them of two years."

"Two years…" Saruman scoffed. "The next batch, I will see to personally that they last longer than that."

"There is no other way than to sacrifice the clones' fighting potential, Master Istari."

"There are methods some might consider unnatural. Methods to cheat nature's restrictions." Saruman said sternly. "You."

He moved in front of one of the Uruks and stopped. "What is your purpose?"

"Kill." The creature growled.

"Whom do you serve?"

"Saruman."

Saruman turned to the Kaminoan cloner. "How many are ready for war?"

"Almost a hundred and eighty-thousand, with another eight-hundred thousand on the way."

"Good."

Saruman stepped in front of the Uruk Commander. "Ready the Battalions. Gandalf the Grey has broken his promise and taken the Ring for himself. I want you to find him and bring the Ring to me. Do what you want with him, as long as he doesn't survive it."

The Uruk nodded and gave the wizard a cruel smirk, then turned around to the formation. With a single roar given by the Commander, the horde began the long process of boarding the awaiting cruisers

"Your payment is in your account." Saruman said. "The rest will be given to you once the full batch is ready."

"Of course, Master Istari." Han Se said, turning to his Kaminoan workers and waiving them to return to work.

The thunder of the thousands of marching feet and roars of war-hungry Uruks filled the chamber. Saruman watched as the armies slowly filled the awaiting cruisers.

Soon the ring would be in his possession. The Empire would fall under his mighty war machine. Sauron's armies were undisciplined and disorganized. They too would fall to the new master of industry. The Galaxy would be brought to order, and he would be the one to do it.

/

**Year: 1 ABY**

**Ship: Rivendell**

**Location: Orbit of Hoth**

**Subject: Mala Pong**

Mala looked on as the elves tried desperately to save Jarreth. Second in command of Grey Team, Jarreth, code name Grey Two, was a veteran. That Human had been with Mala through thick and thin. From liberating Alliance sympathizers on Naboo to sabotaging entire battle groups, Jarreth was there. Now here he lay, crippled by a single leg wound. Whatever that Nazgul stabbed him with was destroying him from the inside. Jarreth gasped for air and squirmed in the bed as his veins slowly turned black.

"Is he getting better?" Mala asked.

"We tried several treatments, but the morgul shard is too deep now." One elf explained. "We will have to operate. Please leave the room, we need concentration."

Jarreth's gasping intensified. His eyes opened. They were colourless and blank, and the sight of them sent a shudder down Mala's spine. She backed out of the room as the elves worked on him with strange equipment. She entered the corridor, where Gandalf was waiting for her.

"Is he gonna die?" Mala asked.

"No." Gandalf said reassuringly. "The elves are skilled in medicine. He will mend, but he may never be the same."

Mala crossed her arms. "You said you'd keep us all alive."

"My dear Mala, I am truly sorry." Gandalf lamented. "This was far from the outcome I wanted. Now, we must ensure their sacrifice was not in vain. That is the best thing for them now."

Mala sighed. The important thing was to keep the survivors of Grey Team alive.

"What is it doing to him?"

Gandalf sighed. "A Morgul Blade is a devious tool, designed to shatter once under the skin. If even a single shard enters the body, that shard will travel through the veins to reach the heart. If it reaches there, it will begin to rearrange his atomic structure. He will no longer be Jarreth, but a dark force shadow of himself. A wraith, like the Nazgul, but much less powerful or sentient. He would become a tool for them only."

"I can't believe these Wraiths exist at all." Mala said quietly. "Why would anyone do that to someone? Turn them into...that."

"Sauron is a corrupted creature, driven only by his need for power." Gandalf said. "He will do anything to reach that goal, no matter the cost to others. The most unfortunate reality is...most of his servants follow him by choice."

"What? Who would want to follow a monster like that?"

"Sauron isn't the only one who desires power." Gandalf said. "Even my fellow Istari can be enticed. Even Twi'leks can be turned if gifted with the proper motivations."

Mala scowled. "I fought against tyranny all my life. I could never trade one tyrant for another."

"Evil is always but one decision away. We all believe that we can resist it, hide away the urge to give in to it, but we can only know the truth when we are faced with the choice."

"Well, I choose not to."

"That is not your true choice." Gandalf sighed. "When we journey into the Unknown Regions, we will all be tested. I believe that you are more good than evil, but that is not for me to decide for you."

"Cryptic." Mala mumbled. "What's in the Unknown Regions? It sounds like you know something I don't."

Gandalf gave her a grim look. "The Unknown Regions are unknown for a reason. The very fabric of space will reject our presence. Nothing grows there, nothing beautiful survives. The vast emptiness of the space in between planets will drive men mad, and the influence of the Dark Lord will infect every one of us the closer we get to Mordor. Only misery awaits for us in that dark, uncaring void. We will be hunted, pursued, attacked and killed off by all manner of creatures and foul things. It is a place I had never hoped to visit, and now there is no other choice."

There was a silence as Mala processed the old man's words.

"Don't sugar coat it." Mala said, her mouth suddenly feeling dry.

"However," Gandalf continued, "I don't think you will succumb to these horrors. You held your own against an Imperial Inquisitor. That is no insignificant task."

"She shot my own bolts at me, and now I only have one kidney." Mala scoffed. "I don't know if that counts as holding my own."

There was another silence.

"But I have to go out there, into that hellhole." Mala said confidently. "No matter how dangerous. I failed the Yagai engineers when I failed my mission on Yaga Minor. There are too many worlds, too many slaves out there that need us to do this. If I go mad or die out there, I can at least say I did my duty to help free the galaxy from one more monster."

Gandalf looked at her. "You were a slave once."

Mala looked at the wizard, and was about to ask how he knew, but realized it was a stupid question.

"Not much gets by your magic senses, does it?" She asked.

"It was not difficult to guess.." He replied.

Mala turned away and stared down the elven halls. "I don't like to talk about it."

"Of course." Gandalf said softly.

"You think those Imperials are gonna hold their end of the bargain?" Mala asked skeptically.

"Even I do not know." Gandalf replied. "I thought it unwise to involve them, but their fleets are powerful, and their soldiers are loyal patriots. Perhaps, we may yet see the coming together of all peoples in the galaxy once again, as it was once before."

Before Gandalf finished his sentence, one of the elves poked his head out of the medical bay. "We have found the shard, and have removed it. We are proud to say he will recover."

Mala felt relief wash through her tense muscles. "Can I see him?"

"Not for a few days." The elf replied. "He will need rest and intensive care."

Mala nodded and turned to Gandalf. "You hungry? I'm starving."

/

**Year: 1 ABY**

**Ship: The Challenger, MC80-Liberty Type Cruiser**

**Location: Orbit of Hoth**

**Subject: Mon Mothma**

Mothma scrolled through the roster of what ships she could muster for the journey. Two MC80 Cruisers, four EF76 Frigates, three CR70 corvettes, three hammerheads and five GR25 Transports. She had to pull some serious strings to devote a fleet this large for a mission this far-fetched, but acquire them, she did.

The crews were chosen out of the best the Alliance had to offer. Hardened ship captains and highly-trained soldiers, sailors and engineers all hand-picked from a roster of millions of Alliance members. If they couldn't fulfill this task, then all hope was truly lost. Food inventory, weapons maintenance...

A beep at the door of her small, brightly-lit office shook her from her mindless scrolling.

"Enter." She said.

The door opened, and in walked Elrond, a stern look on his face. There was a certain level of tenseness in the air as the two shared the small space.

"What do you want?" Mothma asked impatiently.

"We have placed a specially-designed vault in your cargo hold." Elrond said, clearly hiding his own distaste for her. "The Ring has been placed inside. The design should reduce its influence on any crew that comes near. Here is the key."

Elrond placed a glowing stone on the desk. Mothma relaxed.

"I appreciate that." Mothma said. "But it can't replace a fleet."

Elrond sighed heavily. "Why won't you understand that we are not staying in this galaxy. Our task is complete. Valinor is our true home. It is not my choice, but the choice of all Eldar that we must return to it. Our fleets are not yours to use at your convenience!"

"Why won't _you_ understand that we are well out of our element here!" Mothma said, standing up from her chair. "We had no records on Sauron until you came and told us! Now you tell me that you expect us to wander blindly into the Unknown Regions and just...hope we find Mordor? I know you've been there. You know his defences, you know his army's capability, strengths and weaknesses. That knowledge is invaluable. If you abandon us now, you might abandon the entire galaxy to our doom. Can you live with that? Immortality gives you an awful long time to live with regret."

Mothma sat back down. The two held a silence for some moments until Elrond finally spoke up.

"I will discuss the matter with the other Eldar fleets.." He said reluctantly.

He turned to leave.

"Thank you." Mothma said quietly as the Elf left her office.

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Planet: Scipio**

**Location: Imperial Emergency Evacuation LZ**

**Subject: Darth Vader**

Vader tried to ignore the groans and screams from the rows of casualties he was passing.. Troopers without limbs, officers horribly burned by Corsair bombs, men scarred by the trauma of the horrors the enemy brought to bear. More and more were becoming sick with the strange incurable plague. Every dead soldier had a blaster bolt put through his skull to make sure they didn't come back, and their bodies were burned to keep the plague from spreading. Piles of the dead burned all around them. Vader had never seen morale as low as it was in these poor souls, some of which now envied the dead; the dead don't have nightmares.

The evac zone was placed high in the mountains, hidden in a wide, flat valley. Perfect for defending and for ships to come and go. The casualties had almost been evacuated, one more transport to fill, and the fleet would make a full retreat to Mygeeto.

The enemy had been strangely quiet the last two days. Not so much as a single goblin came running down that mountain range. What few soldiers were still fit to wield a weapon were patrolling the hills for any activity. So far, they had been lucky.

"This is the last group." One medic stated. "It should be safe to pull the patrols in, Lord Vader."

Vader didn't reply. Something was wrong. The air was so still, and the birds so silent that it was unnatural. Not a single sound came from the mountains around them.

"HW-537, pull your men back." Vader ordered over the radio. "We are leaving."

Vader waited as the last trooper boarded the transport. He was the last Imperial on this planet, but not the last dark-force user. Not by a longshot.

"Lord Vader?" The sergeant asked.

Vader once again stayed silent. A wall of fog came creeping through the trees. That feeling of being watched returned to him. The robed man was out there.

"_Skywalker..."_

The coarse whisper creeped into the Sith's mind.

"Here, _you have seen the Empire's weakness. Your potential is wasted on them…"_

From the snow-covered trees, a black-hooded figure emerged, carrying only a staff. He slowly approached the transport so smoothly, it appeared as though it was gliding. The wave of fog had all but blinded Vader from everything except the approaching Nazgul.

"_The emperor holds you back, in fear of your true power. My Lord holds no such fears. I have learned much from him...you can too."_

"Lord Vader!" The voice of an Imperial Officers echoes quietly in the distance. "We have to go!"

"_The Lord of Gifts has granted me sorcery beyond my wildest dreams. Join him. He will teach you true power. Join him, and the galaxy will be yours. Join Him, and you will even be able to bring the dead back from the void."_

The Nazgul came face-to-face with the confused Sith, close enough to reach out and grab. What was the creature talking about? Did he know about Padme?

"I have heard these lies before." Vader said, igniting his lightsaber. "You're master is no different than mine."

"_One master would grant you slavery. The other would give you everything you ever wanted. Join Sauron, and he will make you whole again. You will feel the warm breeze of Nabio on your face again..."_

"What?"

Vader hesitated. "You lie. That's impossible. I cannot be healed from what I have become."

"Lord Vader? Who are you talking to?"

Vader looked back at the medical officer, still waiting at the door of the transport. When he looked back, any evidence that the Nazgul had been there was gone. The fog had subsided, if it was ever really there. Vader sheathed his lightsaber and boarded the ship, giving one last look around for the hooded sorcerer. Surely the Nazgul was lying. He was destined to be a burnt husk of what he once was. There was no mending this body, just as there was no mending his past mistakes. Palpatine had promised to bring the dead back to life, too, and yet Padme remained dead. But still...even if there was a chance...to breathe the air again. To see the sunset with his own eyes. To touch the trees with his own hands. To touch _her _hands...

Impossible. He was lying. Wasn't he?


	8. Betrayal

***URGENT MESSAGE TO THE IMPERIAL INVESTIGATIONS BUREAU**

**EVIDENCE FOR THE MASSACRE OF TARIS HAS BEEN DISCOVERED**

**This is an update for the investigation of the mysterious destruction of Taris. We have discovered a written transcript of the Garrison Commander's final video log retrieved from the rubble of the ecumenopolis.**

**Enclosed is the transcript of the video log:**

*There is a long pause before the Major begins the log. The sound of bombardment and battle can be heard bleeding though the background. A light flickers in the room as dust falls from the ceiling.

**Major Thiel:** This is the final log of Major Johann Thiel, CO of the Taris Imperial Garrison…

*There is another shake of the camera as more dust falls from the ceiling. Another flicker of lights. Major Thiel shakes his head and blinks a few times as if trying to stay awake.

**Thiel**: None of us have slept in days. Nightmares keep us all up at night. And the plague...my men started just... getting sick. Then civilians, too. They started getting a cough, and then...it just got worse from there. Buboes and necrosis of the skin...and worse things. They filled the streets, the smell, the wailing and...crying and...when they began to die, they started coming back to life...but they weren't alive anymore...

*The officer takes a moment to compose himself.

**Thiel**: Only a few of us were still well enough to hold a blaster when they came. This...giant ship overwhelmed us almost without a fight. There were so many of them…our pleas for reinforcements were never answered...we called and called the surrounding systems for help...for anything...

*Another explosion in the background. The sound of blaster fire grows closer. Major Thiel looks behind him, then turns back to the camera. His tone grows more urgent.

**Thiel**: I don't have much time. They're down the hall now. Their leader, the Mouth, he calls himself...I should have surrendered when he offered. To the other planetary defense forces that hear this: Don't doom your planet. When he asks for your surrender, you take it, you hear me? You take it!

*The blaster fire gets closer, a squad of troopers enters the room behind the Major, firing at something not in the frame. Major Thiel can be seen charging his pistol.

**Thiel**: Courage, men!

*The four troopers in the room are seen firing at a door before a man dressed in black enters and quickly begins to slice the Imperials apart. The smoke of the blasters blocks the camera from seeing details, but when the smoke clears, the unknown man in black is seen to be the only one standing. There are sounds of screaming and whimpering. The man in black looks around then notices the camera. He approaches it, looks closely into the lens, and smiles. He has no eyes. Behind him, a group of Dathomirians, Zabraks, and Black Numenorians can be seen entering the room, firing blaster rounds at the survivors laying on the ground.

**Unknown Man:** Witness what fate awaits you all. Witness the Empire's failure, their inadequacy before my master's might...but this need not be your fate. Bow before my master, succumb to his will, and you will live to see your children grow old. Resist, and this world will be but one of a million worlds to burn. Decide wisely. The Emperor would not allow you such mercy.

*The man forms a fist with his right hand and punches it into the camera lens. The video feed cuts out from there.

**This is the only solid evidence of what happened on Taris. All the other evidence we found were petrified ash fossils of the planet's citizens, the crashed hull of an Imperial-II, and the debris of an old Acclamator in orbit. We are currently investigating why their call for reinforcements was never received. Otherwise, the planet appears to have been bombarded until it was inhospitable. When we scanned for life, the only biology detected on the entire planet was a microbiological culture of subterranean eukaryotes, who most likely only survived by staying underground. **

**On a personal note, this is a tragic end for a planet that managed to already survive one bombardment in its history, now only to finally die to another. I would recommend scheduling a commemoration on Coruscant in celebration of Taris' sacrifice in the face of overwhelming enemy forces. It could spark patriotism and renewed vigor in the war against the invading forces.**

**Request further orders with my investigation. **

**For the Empire,**

**Lt. Col. Clara Reeth**

**Imperial Military Investigator**

**Imperial Investigations Bureau**

***END MESSAGE**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

***REPLY: FURTHER ACTION REQUIRED**

**Good morning, Lieutenant Colonel Reeth,**

**There will be no service commemorating the sacrifices of the soldiers on Taris. This incident is to be classified as Top Secret by order of the Imperial Investigations Bureau. The planet Taris is to be deleted from all Imperial records, and fleets are to be dispatched to all systems adjacent to Taris to ensure their safety and loyalty. **

**The Numenorian known as The Mouth of Sauron and his forces have slithered behind our lines and have disrupted supply lines, as well as turning several worlds to their genocidal cause. He has hitherto evaded our attempts to stop him. He must be sought and destroyed before they disrupt the Imperial war effort further. We do not need another Iridonia causing panic on loyal worlds, nor do we need any more worlds turning against us. See to it that this is the last planet the Numenorian corrupts or destroys.**

**IMPORTANT: You failed to encrypt your last sent message. This puts Imperial lives at risk and risks information falling into the wrong hands. Failure to encrypt secret information will be seen as an act of treason and will be treated as such. This is your only warning. **

**For the Empire,**

**Director Yarth Tonda**

**Imperial Investigations Director**

**Imperial Investigations Bureau**

**/**

**Year: 1ABY **

**Ship: The Challenger, Alliance Flagship of the Expedition Fleet**

**Location: Hoth System**

**Subject: Mon Mothma**

**Time: Fifteen minutes before the arrival of the Imperial Expedition Fleet in the Hoth System**

Mothma read through the document gathered by Rebel intelligence. The transcript of the attack on Taris, the reports of the deadly plague, the exchange of orders by the Imperial Investigations Bureau. The Investigations bureau hiding the truth, yet again. The Alliance wouldn't let the people of Taris disappear from history like the Empire would like. The galaxy should know what we're up against; an enemy that isn't afraid to wipe out entire systems to bring the galaxy to heel. With each passing day, the mission to the Unknown Regions grew more and more critical.

"Your attention, please. The Imperial Fleet will arrive in fifteen minutes. Yellow alert."

The announcement made Mothma sigh nervously. Trusting Imperial officers to keep their word. Would she go down in history as a fool? The senator that led the Imperials to them, just to be slaughtered? Would they truly be able to work together? The galaxy had done it before against Sauron. Why not now? They had to, or they would all die.

Mothma stood up and left her cramped office to grab some fresh air out in the corridors. Her throat felt dry, and she let out an involuntary cough. Catching herself in the act, a shot of adrenaline flowed down her spine as her eyes widened. No...surely it was just a cough from the stale air in her office. Surely…

She had already watched one of her generals die to this plague. It was gruesome, to say the least. She imagined herself, melting away as her body slowly rotted around her, and she shuddered.

The strangest part of the plague was its randomness. It didn't spread like any normal infection, and it wasn't contagious, as far as the medical droids could tell. It hit people randomly, without a pattern to be seen. Sometimes, a single person would fall ill, and sometimes, an entire world would be found infected. So far, the Alliance had been lucky, seeing very few casualties to the disease.

She waited for another cough, for another sign that she would be the next victim of the sickness, but nothing came. She sighed with hesitant relief and continued her walk to the bridge.

/

"Admiral Ryda, is the fleet ready to receive our guests?" Mothma asked, stepping into the busy bridge.

The Mon Cal Admiral turned around from his work to greet the Senator. "The fleet has been put on yellow alert, and we have beaten to quarters. If this turns ugly, we are ready to jump away."

"Good, thank you, Admiral." Mothma replied.

"Senator, You know I love your professional visits," Admiral Ryda said sternly, "but please, return to your quarters. If we are fired upon, the bridge is not the place for someone as valuable as you."

"I would be remiss to stay. Good luck, and may the force be with us." Mothma said, trying to hide her uncertainty.

"May the force be with us." The Admiral replied, seemingly also unsure of the mission.

As the senator turned to leave, the alarm rang out for the Imperial Fleet's arrival. Outside the bridge's window, A fleet of five Star Destroyers and several smaller support ships appeared from hyperspace.

"Admiral, we are being hailed."

"Open the channel, Lieutenant." The Admiral replied.

"This is Commodore Tarwin," Came the voice over the speaker. "I'm glad to see how many ships you managed to acquire. We will rotate shifts, feed our men, and will be ready to ship off by 1800 this evening. Will you be ready by then?"

Ryda looked to Mothma hesitantly. She raised her eyebrows at him and motioned him to reply.

"They haven't fired yet…" Mothma whispered.

"Commodore Tarwin, this is Admiral Ryda. We are ready." The Admiral replied. "I think we should discuss our scheme of maneuver over dinner. If you would like to visit the Challenger this evening before departure."

"I would be honoured," Vanick replied. "I will pass on my orders to the fleet and will prepare my shuttle to transport me and my ship commanders to your flagship."

"Very good. I will see you in Hangar Bay Two." Ryda said before closing the channel. "Wel…"

"Wel…" Mothma replied. "So far, so good…"

"So far…" Ryda replied. "Lower shields, cancel yellow alert for now-"

No sooner had those words left his mouth, the challenger suddenly shook violently with incoming fire.

"What was that?!" Mothma yelled, the red alert alarm suddenly blaring through the ship.

"The Imperials are opening fire!" Ryda shouted. "Return fire and prepare to jump to emergency coordinates on my mark!"

"Sir!" One officer yelled, "Look!"

Among the Imperial fleet, there was one Star Destroyer not firing. In fact, it was being fired upon by his fellow Destroyers.

"That's Tarwin's ship, sir!"

"Hail them!" Ryda barked.

"Open!" The communications officer shouted.

"Tarwin! What the hell is going on?! Why have you fired on us?!"

"Admiral!" Tarwin's voice came over the speaker. "We've been betrayed! My shields are failing quickly! I'm preparing my ship to jump away, but we're in a crossfire!"

Admiral Ryda looked to Mothma. "Do we send Commodore Tarwin our evacuation coordinates?"

"He seems just as surprised as we are, Admiral." Mothma replied.

The Challenger took a volley of laser fire, shaking the bridge enough to throw the senator off-balance.

Ryda thought for a moment, his eyes fixed on the lone Star Destroyer being bombarded by its compatriots. It seemed to be lilting to one side, with fire starting on multiple decks, but it was slowly moving away from the Imperial formation.

"Commodore!" Ryda finally shouted. "We are transmitting our evac coordinates to you now! Can you escape the formation?"

"Our hyperdrive is disabled, Admiral, we're not going anywhere." Vanick replied. "I'm going to try and lose them in the gas giant, hopefully, they chase me and not you. Get the Ring out of here!"

"Godspeed, Tarwin." Ryda said sternly. "Prepare to jump the fleet to the evac coordinates. On my mark...jump."

The Challenger entered the hyperspace tunnel, leaving the Hoth system and the Imperial fleet behind them.

"I knew it." Ryda said quietly. "They betrayed their own just to get to us."

"It appears the Empire will not see reason." Mothma said solemnly.

"What did we expect?" Ryda replied. "They're Imperials, they would rather see their entire Empire crumble than see their fate in the hands of rebel scum."

"We still have the Alliance fleet," Mothma said. "The mission is still underway. When we reach the evac coordinates, we regroup and chart a course for the Unknown Regions."

"Yes, Senator." Ryda replied.

She was a fool, Mothma thought to herself. What was she thinking? To even remotely trust a single Imperial, no matter how trustworthy they seemed, was a grave mistake. She hoped that the elves would see reason and join them. Now, it may be a case of life or death.

/

**Year: 1ABY **

**Ship: The Shadow, Imperial Flagship of the 10th Expeditionary Fleet**

**Location: Hyperspace, en route to the Hoth System**

**Subject: Vanick Tarwin**

**Time: Fifteen minutes before arrival of the Imperial Expedition Fleet in the Hoth System**

Vanick looked out the window of the bridge into the tunnel of hyperspace, trying to get himself used to the sight, but as usual, it just made him nauseous. He looked away towards his Executive Officer. Bosch's scowl seemed more unpleasant than usual.

"Concerns, Commander?" Vanick asked. "You look troubled."

"This feels wrong, Sir." Bosch replied. "I don't know how to really explain it, but something is off."

"I know a circumstantial truce with Alliance forces is against everything we've been taught, but you know why we must-"

"It's not that." Bosch said. "Did you see the way the fleet command team looked at you?"

"I tried to ignore it, but it seems understandable, considering the circumstance."

"I'm beginning to suspect something is going on. I have a bad feeling about all of this."

Vanick looked back to his bridge crew. All eyes turned away as he scanned the officers.

"If you must investigate something to make yourself feel better, then, by all means, investigate away," Vanick whispered. "If you find something, then...execute who you must to keep the peace on this ship. I won't risk our one shot at ending this war to a mutiny."

"Sir." Bosch said.

Bosch left the bridge, leaving Vanick to silently ponder the mission. It was suspicious that his father not only provided an entire fleet to this mission but accepted it so easily. He had barely a year's worth of experience commanding a ship, let alone a fleet, yet here he was, once again placed in a position higher than his age or experience should allow him. It was no wonder the ship commanders looked on him with such contempt.

"We are nearing the system, sir." The Navigation Officer announced.

"Take us out of hyperspace at the set coordinates, Lieutenant." Vanick replied.

The stars returned to view as the ship exited hyperspace, along with the rest of the Expeditionary Fleet. Before them was the Rebel fleet, surprisingly large for the resources the rebellion had to spare.

"Hail the flagship." Vanick said.

"This is Commodore Tarwin," Vanick announced, "I'm glad to see how many ships you managed to acquire. We will rotate shifts, feed our men, and will be ready to ship off by 1800 this evening. Will you be ready by then?"

There was a pause as he waited for the Rebel ship's reply.

"Sir, they're shields are up. Should we raise ours?"

"Thank you, they're probably more scared of us than we are of them. I doubt we'll need shields." Vanick replied.

"Commodore Tarwin, this is Admiral Ryda. We are ready." A voice over the speaker finally replied. "I think we should discuss our scheme of maneuver over dinner. If you would like to visit the Challenger this evening before departure."

"I would be honored," Vanick replied. "I will pass on my orders to the fleet and will prepare my shuttle to transport me and my ship commanders to your flagship."

"Very good. I will see you in Hangar Bay Two."

The channel closed.

"Lieutenant, contact the fleet."

"Aye, sir."

"This is Commodore Tarwin to fleet command, we have been invited to dine with our fellow fleet commanders this evening. We should arrive by-"

The bridge suddenly shifted violently sideways, throwing everybody to the floor. Sparks erupted from the consoles as the hull was lit ablaze by green laser impacts.

"Who's shooting!" Vanick roared.

"We are, sir!" Tactical replied.

"Raise shields! Return fire!" Vanick ordered, pushing himself off the floor. "Hail the fleet!"

"They aren't responding sir...wait. They're hailing _us._"

"Put it through." Vanick said. "Command, what the fuck-"

"Commodore Vanick Tarwin, by order of Admiral Tarwin, you and your traitor men are to be executed for conspiring with the enemy." A grim voice spoke over the speaker.

Vanick's face went pale. "What? Captain Vaug, is that you?""

"You and your crew are to be made an example to the Empire. Anyone caught conspiring with the rebellion will be destroyed. May you find reconciliation in your death, Commodore."

The message cut out, leaving the bridge crew of the Shadow in cold silence. Another volley of fire rammed the hull, shaking them all out of their shock.

"Shield's are failing, sir, they're hitting us hard!" Tactical roared.

"Get us out of here!" Vanick ordered. "Jump us anywhere but here!"

"Tarwin! What the hell is going on?! Why have you fired on us?!" Admiral Ryda's voice rang over the speaker.

"Admiral!" Tarwin shouted. "We've been betrayed! My shields are failing quickly! I'm preparing my ship to jump away, but we're in a crossfire!"

"Sir…the hyperdrive is disabled, but not from incoming fire…"

"They sabotaged us. They had this planned…" Vanick thought to himself. "Just get us out of the crossfire! Move us away!"

"Coordinates?"

"Anywhere but here!"

"Sir, there's a gas giant in this system. We could use the atmosphere to hide us away."

"Do it!" Vanick barked.

"Commodore!" Ryda's voice shouted over the comms. "We are transmitting our evac coordinates to you now! Can you escape the formation?"

"Our hyperdrive is disabled, Admiral, we're not going anywhere." Vanick replied. "I'm going to try and lose them in the gas giant, hopefully, they chase me and not you. Get the Ring out of here!"

"Godspeed, Tarwin." Ryda said sternly before the channel cut out.

The Shadow sluggishly made its way across the system with the rest of the Expeditionary Fleet catching up. The bridge's lights shut down, leaving only the sun in the distance as the only source of illumination. Coolant began to leak from a panel in the wall, bellowing onto the floor like a thick fog.

"Sir, our sublight engines just gave out! We're just running on momentum, now…"

"Do we have maneuvering thrusters?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then just get us in that gas giant. Our momentum will get us there, just aim us in."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir, our hull is suffering several structural failures, the port battery is gone and our life support is giving out."

"We just have to make it to the atmosphere." Vanick replied, gripping the railings to keep himself from losing balance from the turbulence.

Sparks rained down from the bridge ceiling as wires and tubes began to shake loose. Screams of burnt officers were drowned by the alarm. Vanick looked out at the hull. It was a miracle the ship was still intact with how many holes the fleet had punched into her. Finally, she reached the massive planet. The Shadow drilled through the atmosphere, past the lightning and the heat until she was deep enough that no light pierced the planet's heavy atmosphere. The bridge was pitch black, save for the one red emergency light over the exit.

"We need medical teams to the bridge!" Bosch barked as he pushed himself from the floor. "Anyone still alive, I want to know where the Expedition Fleet is right now!"

"Sir, I'm not picking up the fleet on sensors anymore." A raspy voice shouted out from the sensor console.

"Good. That means they can't detect us, either." Vanick replied. "I want casualty, damage, and missing person reports from every department. I want repair droids working on the hull ASAP. They're bound to send scouts and bombers through the atmosphere, keep your eyes locked on those sensors. We're not safe yet."

"It's all your fault." Came a quiet voice from behind him.

Vanick knew what was behind him. That was the voice of his Navigation Lieutenant. He turned around to find the Lieutenant, his forehead dripping with blood, his shaking hand aiming a blaster pistol at the Commodore's head.

"Lieutenant-"

"They think we're all traitors because of you." The lieutenant sobbed. "I'll never see my family again, because of you!"

"Lieutenant, put the pistol down. That's a direct order." Vanick said as calmly as he could.

"No, sir! You can't give orders anymore! You forced us all to our deaths! For what?! Some mission we can't know anything about?! This whole thing is madness! Everyone thinks so! Even the XO thinks so!"

"I will clear our intent of the mission to the entire crew." Vanick said, "Just put the gun down and I'll explain everything to you."

"I will not, sir." The Lieutenant said sternly. "You are relieved of duty. I won't let my son live a fatherless life! Once they hear we killed you, they'll accept us back as heroes!"

"What planet does your family live on?"

"What?"

"What planet is your son on?"

"Muunilinst." The panicked lieutenant said quietly.

"Muunilinst. That's close to the front line, is it not? Just 5 hyperspace jumps away from Yaga Minor..."

"Shut up!"

"Do you even know they're still alive, Lieutenant?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"The war can end, right here, right now. This mission can end it all. It's your family's best hope. It's the Empire's best hope. We can stop the invasion before it reaches Muunilinst. Just put the gun down…"

The lieutenant's hand began to shake.

"I-"

"You can't defeat the enemy all on your own, but you can defeat him with us."

The lieutenant's aim lowered, but Vanick flinched as the room filled with the echoes of a blaster being fired. The Lieutenant's face contorted with pain as smoke rose from his back. The officer fell to the floor, revealing the charred wound on his back. Bosch stood behind him, a blaster pistol smoking in his hand.

"Damn it, he was going to put the gun down! You couldn't have waited two more fucking seconds?!" Vanick roared.

"And wait for him to shoot? There will be no mutiny on this ship. Not while I'm drawing breath." Bosch said, holstering his pistol. "Way I see it, we're all traitors in the Empire's eyes now. We only have one way to go, and that's the Unknown Regions. Anyone who has a problem with that gets a blaster round to the face. Carry on."

The bridge crew stared silently still at the spectacle that just transpired before them.

"I said carry on!" Bosch barked. "You're still wearing the fucking uniform, you will obey the chain fo command! Carry on!"

/

The bridge crew was silent as haggard and exhausted stormtroopers carried the Lieutenant's body off the bridge.

"Our hull's ripped apart. The Shadow's back is broken, so even if we got the hyperdrive back online, she won't fly for another few days. What's more, every engine we have is offline. We're dead in the water, sir." Bosch explained.

Vanick looked out the window, into the darkness of the gas giant. "They're still out there, looking for us. They wouldn't let us disappear without proof we're dead. There's TIEs out there, searching the planet's atmosphere for us. We need this ship ready to jump sooner rather than later. We don't need weapons or shields, just focus on getting us mobile."

"We have teams working on it, but we still don't know exactly how the hyperdrive was sabotaged yet."

"My own father…" Vanick mumbled. "My own…"

"We won't get any more help from them." Bosch said matter-of-factly. "A year ago, I would have shot you myself if it meant getting these men home safe. But now, I doubt your father cares much what I or any of us do, as long as we're made an example of. No turning back now. Our only allies now are the Elves and the fucking rebels. Still, my duty is to the protection of the Empire, and the smooth running of this ship. So...we keep the crew working, keep them fed and happy, and hopefully, they won't lynch us in our sleep."

There was a pause as they both watched out into the blackness of the atmosphere, the occasional spark of lightning lighting the otherwise empty abyss. Vanick wondered what was below them, in the hot deep of the gas giant. Creature, perhaps? Eyes of a monster watching them as they sat in its dark territory? No matter. There was a true threat out there, and it was the fleet no doubt scanning the planet above them.

"There's the resources of four Imperial-II's out there looking for us." Vanick said. "We may not have very long. Thankfully, we have the evac coordinates the Alliance fleet sent us. We'll rendezvous with them once we're able to move again. Hopefully we'll line up with our hyperspace lane before the fleet spots us. I doubt even with full repairs, we'll be able to fight them off for long."

"Probably not. The Shadow took a beating." Bosch explained. "We're still waiting for casualty reports to come in."

Vanick sighed and looked down.

"Perhaps that Lieutenant was right."

"About what?"

"About me. I just doomed my entire crew to a life of ostracization and maybe even death. What was I thinking trying to lead a mission like this? What have I done?"

"That's not what the crew needs in their commanding officer right now." Bosch hissed, moving closer. "They don't need a self-doubting boy leading them. You can cry yourself to sleep every night over this in the privacy of your quarters, but I'll be damned if you let them see it. You're an Imperial Commodore, now. The crew will be watching your every move for weakness. The slightest hint of doubt, there'll be a mutiny, you mark my words. I'll be damned if I'm going to die on this ship protecting you from them. I will, but I'll be damned if I have to."

Vanick gulped as he took in his XO's words. He straightened his wrinkled and charred uniform, replaced his cap, and turned to leave the bridge.

"You have the bridge, Commander." Vanick said to Bosch. "I'm going to take a visit to the infirmary, make sure they don't need help."

/

**Year: 1ABY **

**Ship: The Shadow, Imperial Flagship of the 10th Expeditionary Fleet**

**Location: The dining halls**

**Subject: Marcos Rey**

**Time: Five minutes before the arrival of the Imperial Expedition Fleet in the Hoth System**

Marcos stared down at his rations. The grayish milky drink sloshed viscously in the bowl, and he scowled, remembering the taste and feel of the Elvish food. He was loyal to his people, but damn if he shouldn't have stayed on board Rivendell.

He took the bowl in both hands, looked around at the hundreds of other stormtroopers, all slurping down their rations, and copied their actions. It slid down his throat like warm honey, but with all the flavor of the blandest grains. Nutritious, yes. Tasty? No.

It was in mid-sip that an all-too-familiar voice grunted from behind.

"Sergeant fucking Rey. I thought I had you executed."

Marcos winced at the voice. "Lieutenant Cull. I thought you died on the Incorruptible."

"Unlike the Incorruptibles crew, I had no duties assigned to me." Cull said, sitting beside the scowling trooper. "Ergo, I was the only one that could take an escape pod and bravely warn the Empire of the attack. That doesn't explain how you escaped your cell, Sergeant, and it certainly doesn't explain why you're back in uniform."

"It's corporal now, actually." Marcos said, taking another sip.

"Corporal." Cull repeated. "So you got away with only a demotion?"

"Commodore Tarwin felt executed men don't contribute well to the war effort. Also, it helps that no one liked you in that garrison." Marcos replied coldly. "I escaped by breaking out."

"Impossible." Cull spat. "Those cells are unbreakable. There's no way you got out on your own. Who helped you?"

"A damn fairy carried me away." Marcos grunted. "Now, are you going to let me eat, or are you waiting for a rematch?"

"You wouldn't dare." Cull said, squinting his eyes.

Marcos' face spun to the officer beside him, his eyes wide with an animalistic rage. "Try me..._Sir._"

Cull calmly looked into Marcos' eyes, then he smirked, stood up from the seat and stopped his tunic from riding up his chest.

"I'm sure there will be plenty of time for us to resolve our little squabble." The Lieutenant said. "In the meantime, enjoy your dinner. Who knows how many of those you will have left, what with the danger of the mission and all. Come to think of it, the mission has been declared top secret, which means ninety-eight percent of us have no idea why we're even traveling to the Unknown Regions. I know you know more than we do. You were with Commodore Tarwin for a long time. Care to enlighten me?"

Marcos stayed silent and obnoxiously took another sip of his watery ration.

"Okay, how about a direct order to tell me?" Cull repeated, more sternly than before.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Marcos mumbled.

"Try me."

Suddenly, the ship jerked sideways, throwing hundreds of rations across the room, splattering greyish goo all over the floor. The alarms began to ring, and the ground shook with the scuttling of hundreds of stormtrooper feet.

"RED ALERT, ALL PILOTS TO THEIR SHIPS. ALL SQUADS, PREPARE TO REPEL BOARDERS."

Cull picked himself off the ground and began looking around for his officer's cap.

"Leave it, we're under attack!" Marcos yelled.

"You don't give the orders around here, Corporal!" Cull snapped back.

Cull looked fiercely around a few more seconds before being pushed towards the exit by the stampede of dining troopers.

Marcos ran with all speed to the armory. Weapons were being handed out like candy to every soldier that passed by. The lights flickered in the corridors as the vibrations of an explosion rippled through the hull. The ship began to lilt to the side, knocking people off-balance as they scurried through the tilted halls.

"You!" An officer called out to Marcos. "What platoon are you with?"

"Third, sir." Marcos replied.

"They're over on the port turbolaser deck, you'll never get there in time. Looks like you're with me now." The officer barked. "Welcome to the fifth platoon."

Marcos nodded and followed the fifth platoon to the hangar bay. As they took a position to repel boarders, they took cover as a green turbolaser hit the other side of the hangar, shooting another whole platoon into space, along with the shuttles stored on that side. The fifth platoon recoiled from the bay door as the opposite side of the hangar melted away into space, fearing they were next.

Green turbolasers...

"Are those...our ships firing on us?" Marcos said out loud.

"What the hell is happening?" Another trooper asked.

Marcos moved towards the hangar bay door and peered down the void of space. Below them was another Star Destroyer, firing into the bottom of their hull. TIEs were zooming in and out of view as they flew past.

"Why are they attacking us?!" The officer blurted.

"They're not boarding…" Marcos said. "They're not firing ion cannons, they're firing turbolasers. They want us dead."

"What?! Oh god..."

"We're sitting ducks!"

"Do we abandon ship?!"

"Hold your position!" The officer barked. "We're defending the hangar! That's our job!"

As he spoke, there was a sudden jerk as the Shadow began to move away at full speed from the attacking destroyers. The other Imperial ships fell out of view, but the barrage of green laser kept coming. The far side of the hangar was a flaming, molten hole where a deck used to be, and smoke began to waft into the halls from the damage the Shadow was taking. The lights flickered, then went out completely. The emergency lights kicked on, lighting the hangar just enough to see outside. The blackness of space was suddenly replaced with a brightly-lit cloud of...something.

"Are we going into a dust cloud?" A trooper asked as the ship plowed headfirst into the gas.

"Or a planet." The officer said. "You feel that gravity shift?"

"It's a planet," Marcos said. "Gas clouds don't have an atmosphere. You hear the wind? See the lightning?"

"They're hiding us in a gas giant!" One trooper shouted.

"We live to fight another day, troopers!" The officer spoke over the roar of the wind. "Commodore Tarwin has saved us from the treason of those traitorous ships!"

The platoon cheered, but Marcos knew the truth. The Empire knew they were working with rebels, and they couldn't have that. If they survived this, they'd be hunted to the ends of the galaxy and back until they were all vaporized into dust, courtesy of Imperial firepower. That was, if the Unknown Regions didn't beat them to it.

/

**Year: 1ABY **

**PLanet: Mygeeto**

**Location: Imperial Primary Staging Area**

**Subject: Darth Vader**

Vader strode furiously towards the HQ building. He ripped the door open with a flick of his wrist, permanently damaging its automatic motors.

"Move." He said, flicking away the troopers guarding the elevator. The troopers rammed into the walls and hit the ground.

The ride was intolerably long as the elevator slowly made its way to the top of the tower. When the door finally opened onto the top floor, he stepped out and made his way straight for Adrus Kaine.

The mumblings of officers grew silent as he entered the room where Kaine's briefing was taking place.

"Ah, Vader." The Grand Moff said. "You're late-"

His words were cut short as the breath was ripped from his lungs. His body clenched as he was pushed against the wall by Vader's sorcery.

"You cost me half my Legion on Scipio, Kaine!" Vader roared. "You left us down there with nothing! Your tactical prowess has been clearly exaggerated. You are of no use to me any longer."

Kaine stared into the Sith's eyes as his face turned purple.

"Vader," One general spoke up, "He was just about to explain that we were testing their strengths. Now we know what Mordor can bring to the field. That was the plan."

Vader shot a glance at the impudent general. "Then why was I not informed?!"

Kaine's eyes began to bulge from their sockets.

"You can ask him." The general said, motioning towards the half-conscious man against the wall.

Vader continued to stare at the general, then released his grip on Kaine's lungs. Kaine gasped and coughed for almost a minute, kneeling on the floor and drooling from the mouth. After he regained his composure, he stood up and straightened his collar.

"Why was I not informed, Kaine?" Vader asked slowly.

"That would have changed nothing," Kaine said. "The same men would have died, and we would have gotten the same result. We have more data on the enemy now than we have had for months simply because, for the first time, we let them use their forces to their full effect. Those men did their duty, and now, with the strategic and tactical knowledge we gained from the Battle of Scipio, we can muster a true offensive operation. Sit down, Vader. I'll show you what intelligence we gathered on our new enemy."

Vader crossed his arms and remained standing.

"Very well." Kaine said casually before turning on the holoscreen. "Officers, please bring your attention to the screen."

The holoscreen on the wall booted up, displaying a brief rundown of enemy forces and their strategic significance. Weapons, armor, species, vehicles, and ships were listed neatly on the large screen.

"While the 501st and 78th Snow Trooper Division were on the ground, our reconnaissance drones captured detailed analysis on the enemy's forces." Kaine started. "From what they gathered, we know that eighty-four percent of their infantry corps is composed of the creatures known as Orcs, along with several smaller and larger subspecies of Orc. Their weapons are inaccurate and primitive, but they have the numbers to make up for it. They've been observed carrying Imperial-issue weapons and armor, so they are scavenging our dead. Make a note of that.

'They have no tanks or armored land vehicles, but they do have large creatures they call Trolls and who act as their version of a tank. Standard issue blasters have no effect, so we'll have to employ some heavy firepower to take them down.

"There is the concern of Humans and other native galactic species being seen among their ranks. They're armed and armored like proper soldiers, so be aware that they are not just a rabble of mindless cannon fodder. Keep your men ready to fight competent enemies. We have received information that the extinct Numenorean culture is not as extinct as we first thought. They are alive and are very dangerous. Their technology is just as deadly as the archeologists had hypothesized, so do not underestimate them.

"They have some light artillery, but nothing of note. Mortars and rocket launchers and the like. We can employ common tactics for anti-artillery here.

"Their air support consists of bombers and fighters, and all are piloted by Humans. We can assume from this that their air support is valuable and hard to replace if they're only trusting their best to pilot them. As such, they're a high priority.

"Oddly enough, they have been seen employing cavalry, of all things. Heavy blasters take care of them with little issue. They also make use of animals, such as Wargs and a horned beast of burden whose name we haven't gathered.

"Now, we come to the true threats to the Empire; their commanders, their space carriers, and their biological weapons. Their military commanders are humanoid, but appear invulnerable to any weapon we can throw at them. Orbital bombardment only seems to slow them down. They have been seen riding aerial reptilian creatures, which are impervious to small arms. These commanders, apparently known as Nazgul, appear to have a psychological terror effect on our men. Our officers must be ready to enforce discipline. Deserters and cowards will be shot. My orders."

The screen switched to footage of the undead stormtroopers, slowly advancing on the Imperial trenches.

"Gentlemen, we now know where the plague originated; them. The samples taken from the undead have confirmed that they were infected with the same disease that has infected two-thirds of the galaxy. Mordor is using biological warfare on us. As far as I care, they've waived any right to mercy or quarter. This is no longer a war, it's extermination. Whether we exterminate them, or they exterminate us is the true question. Burn all your dead, we can't have the disease spreading. Every man they kill that we don't burn is another body in their army.

"Their Black Fortresses continue to cross into our territory by the hundreds. From intel gathered by fleets engaging them across the frontline, we know that they're shielded, armed to the teeth, and very hard to destroy. They're approximately 18.5 kilometers in length, just under the length of an Executor, but more than double their mass and more than triple their guns. They're mobile bases, each one carrying enough soldiers, equipment, and weapons to decimate a planet.

"This is no ordinary invasion. They want this galaxy to burn. They kill children, they kill women, and they loot and pillage the worlds they subjugate. They don't care about claiming resources or creating an empire. They want to see this galaxy enslaved and scarred permanently, and we are the only thing keeping that from happening. See to it that every single man under your command knows the stakes, and fights accordingly. Any questions?"

The room was silent. Faces were pale. Eyes were wide. Mouths were open. Vader scanned the room. These officers had grown complacent in the relative peace the galaxy had seen the last two decades. Yes, the rebellion was a thorn in their side, but they weren't an existential threat. Coruscant hadn't been in any real danger since the attack by the CIS. Some soldiers weren't alive to even see those days.

"Good. I will begin a mass-conscription effort to replace the sick and dead. Tend to your duties and prepare the armada to defend this frozen rock. Dismissed."

The generals all stood and left the room in dead silence. Each one looked as though they had personally been responsible for the death of the galaxy. Vader waited until the room was empty, just him and the Grand Moff.

"What is it now, Vader?"

"I respected Tarkin for his intelligence and his cunning." Vader started. "You are dangerous. You are no Tarkin, and you will die before this war is over...those men will realize how expendable you think they are, how disposable you think their men are, and you will make an enemy of them."

"I think not, Vader." Kaine replied coldly. "It's because of me that we now can create a real defense of this galaxy. Tarkin's Death Star failed, but I won't. We now know everything about our enemy. Because of me and my plan. They've thrown every card they have at us, and now it's time to play our hand."

Vader suddenly lost his balance as the ground shifted below them. The rumble of the earth grew deafening as the HQ building began to lean to one side. The ceiling began to crumble and the windows shattered. Electric sparks lit the room as everything began to come down around them.

"The building is collapsing!" Kaine yelled over the noise.

Vader looked to the door. Not enough time to leave through the stairs, and they were ten stories up. The ceiling gave way completely, Vader instinctively moved his hands upwards to hold it hovering above them, keeping the whole thing from falling on their heads. Vader looked at the panicking Kaine and pushed one arm towards him. With a yelp, Kaine flew out the window and hovered in the air. Vader followed suit and jumped out the broken window, hovering himself down to the ground before the ceiling collapsed fully. Kaine flailed his arms and legs as he slowly sank to ground level. The two landed lightly on the shaking ground, then turned to watch as the HQ building crumbled into dust. A massive cloud of smoke blew up across the encampment, blocking any sight of what remained of the tower.

"What the hell is going on?!" Kaine yelled. "Did the generals make it out?!"

"I don't know." Vader said, just as confused as the Moff was.

Suddenly, the sound of a low grumble rose from the massive cloud of dust. The whole camp grew silent as a red glow began to emanate from the hazy rubble.

"What...what the hell is _that?!_" Kaine whispered.

"Get out of here," Vader said. "If you value your skin."

His lightsaber buzzed to life. The Sith took a fighting stance as a massive black shape rose from the rubble. Vader's helmet couldn't make out what it was from the dust in the way. Every nearby trooper formed a firing line and took aim at the shadow. The grumblings grew louder as whatever it was began to stand, several stories higher than the troopers that surrounded it. Kaine looked at Vader, then ran as fast as he could from the mass. A low-pitched series of clicks and rumblings came from the creature. The red glow grew brighter as the shape of massive wings burst from the dust. With a single thrash of the black wings, the dust cleared, revealing the flaming figure that stood before them. Flame erupted from its body, lighting the ground ablaze. Its horned face was nothing more than glowing nose slits, eye holes, and a gaping mouth filled with teeth that could rip a Hutt in half. Its roar broke the dead silence, blasting Vader's suit with scorching heat.

Vader winced as the heat brought back the painful memories of so long ago. The troopers all exclaimed in fear as the creature drew a massive sword of flame seemingly from nowhere.

"Open fire!" rang an order from the line.

The order was passed down the line, and thousands of blasters all began to pelt the monster. The creature roared angrily, recoiling from the volume of blaster fire hitting its form. It brought down its sword, crushing a hundred troopers with a single swing. Almost immediately, the firing line broke as the flames of the monster's weapon rippled through their ranks.

Before the creature could take another swing, Vader shot his hand out to catch it. The Balrog's sword stopped mid-swing in the air. It looked at its arm, then at Vader. Vader realized it knew what he was doing, and with its other arm, it pulled out a flaming whip. Vader dodged the whip, but doing so forced him to break his hold on the Balrog's sword. The balrog slammed its sword into the troopers again, burning hundreds more of them alive. The firing line dissolved quickly as troopers trampled over each other to get away from the monster.

The Barog turned its attention fully towards Vader. The lightsaber barely blocked the huge flaming weapons of the demon, but Vader held his own for a time. Vader force-pulled the creature's head down into the ground. With a ground-shaking crunch, the demon's head hit the rubble. Vader moved quickly to plunge his lightsaber into its skull, but the creature was smarter than it looked. It reached behind its head and placed its hand over its skull. Vader sliced into the hand, but the lightsaber only delved a foot into its thick hide. The creature roared, shooting a burst of fire from its shadowy body.

Vader's suit protected him well enough but the heat still forced him to back away. As the Balrog tried to get up, Vader pulled it back down with another force-pull. The creature tried to stand itself up, and the two battled over who was the stronger. The Balrog slowly forced its body up, despite Vader's pull on it. After a few minutes of back and forth, the demon eventually broke free of Vader's pull and swung a fist at the Sith. Vader dodged and swung his saber into the beast's hand, lopping off two of its massive singers. The masses evaporated in a whisp of black smoke and a burst of flame. The Balrog screamed with anger and swung its damaged hand into the torso of Vader's armor.

He was pushed back and hit the nearby wall of another Mygeeto building. He steadied himself and watched as the Balrog strode towards him, its body aflame, and its eyes dead set on him. He moved to stand up and tried to block the Balrog's sword, but each swing of the massive flaming blade only seemed to enrage it further. Vader's breathing grew faster as the battle raged on. Troopers around them were engulfed in the flame and power of the fight as the two fought back and forth across the encampment. He stayed calm and observed the creature's slow, powerful attacks, dodging them, and counter-attacking when possible.

Vader had never fought a creature such as this before, and he wasn't sure what could kill it. Every piece he lopped off only seemed to slowly grow back seemingly from nowhere. The creature was overwhelming in its connection to the dark side, as if it were a creature born from its very essence. Vader fought on, but the creature was seemingly inexhaustible.

_See what Palpatine has given you...a body that fails you. A suit of armor that inhibits you. He hides the true power of the dark side from you while you hobble on legs that incapacitate you, lungs that choke you and eyes that blind you._ _You have the power within you to defeat this demon, but Palpatine, in his fear of you, has kept it from you._

The same voice from the Nazgul on Scipio bled into his mind. The Balrog continued to attack, and Vader could only hold it off, never really damaging it substantially.

_Let me show you what the true Dark Lord can give you…your true potential. _

Suddenly, the rounds of an AT-AT's main cannon slammed into the Balrog's skull, knocking it back just long enough for Vader to stand fully. Without thought or intention, he held out his arm, and a stream of purple lightning burst from his fingers. The lightning struck the chest of the Balrog, cutting clean through its body and coming out the other side. With a shock wave of power, any living troopers that were anywhere close to Vader suddenly vaporized, leaving only charred bones in their place. The Balrog roared, then fell overtop the Sith, who flicked its massive body away before it impacted the ground. The creature's dark form rolled across the landscape before evaporating slowly in a cloud of black smoke, leaving only the demon's skeleton.

Vader looked at his hands, which were surging with arcs of electricity. He could barely contain the sheer power coursing through his body. He felt like his lungs could breathe on their own again. His connection with the force seemed restored.

_This is but a taste, Sith. Join us, and you will be capable of burning cities without a thought, controlling minds with your own, even destroying Sidious. The galaxy will bow to you as its true emperor. All my master asks of you is obedience. When this galaxy is claimed, Sauron will continue his conquest across the stars until all reality falls under his banner, and this galaxy will be but a grain of sand in your share of his domain. Infinity awaits...Anakin. _

_Padme is waiting for you to bring her back. With the Dark Lord's power coursing through you, everything you ever wanted will be possible._

Through the dust, the Nazgul's cloaked figure could be seen, holding out its hand. Vader looked down and tried to bring out the purple sparks of power, but nothing came.

_You can only find your true self if you join with him._

Vader looked up at the Nazgul. He scanned his surroundings, at the troopers that moved in to secure the camp. The orders being barked drowned out his own thoughts.

"Lord Vader, are you alright?"

"Yes…" Vader replied to the medical trooper that had just run up to him. "Fine."

The Nazgul was once again gone. Without another word, Vader turned away from the Balrog's body and began walking. He walked past the troopers, past the tents, past the lines of vehicles being fueled for battle, past the medical tent, and the disease-ridden soldiers that moaned with pain. He walked past his own Legion until he reached the edge of the camp.

"Vader! Is it dead?" Kaine asked, running up to the Sith.

"Yes." Vader replied.

"Good work." Kaine said. "I don't know what that was, but obviously, there is more this enemy can throw at us than we first believed."

Vader stayed silent and looked out into the concrete cities of Mygeeto. The frequent Mygeetoan snow once again began to fall around them.

"Now, to prepare for the next attack-" Kaine started.

"Tell me, Kaine." Vader said finally. "What gives you power?"

"What?" Kaine asked.

"How did you become Grand Moff?" Vader asked, turning towards Kaine. "And now that you're here, how powerful do you truly think you are?"

"I don't understand. Vader, you had best start making sense-"

"It's funny how giving a man a title suddenly makes him the most powerful man in the Outer Rim." Vader said, taking a step towards the Grand Moff. "But it's nothing more than a title. You are a weak, cowardly man that hides behind it. The title. Without the cheap piece of colored metal on your uniform, you are just like every other weak, fragile animal."

"Vader, what the hell-"

"What's to stop me from ripping your limbs off your body right now?" Vader asked, taking another step. "Will your position, your rank stop me? Perhaps the rank plaque will stay my hand? No, you have no true defense against me…"

Kaine's face changed from confusion to fear. "Vader, the Emperor will never allow you-"

"THE EMPEROR IS AN OLD FOOL!" Vader blurted. "He is seventy-thousand lightyears away, Kaine. You can't hide behind his wrinkles now, and your false illusion of grandeur can't stop me from doing whatever I want with you."

Vader held out his hand, and Kaine lifted off the ground. His body was outstretched, his arms and legs pulled in four directions.

"V-Vader!" Kaine squealed.

"True power, Ardus Kaine…" Vader said. "Is not within you. Not with the Empire. Not with the Emperor."

A squad of troopers ran up to investigate the noise.

"Save me!" Kaine shouted. "He's gone insane!"

The troopers looked at each other, then did nothing.

"You see, Grand Moff?" Vader said. "They aren't scared of your rank, or your title. They're scared of true power. My power. And soon, the galaxy will know it well. They will know it better than ever before..."

With a wail of fear and a final plea for mercy, Kaine's body ripped away from itself in four directions. The Grand Moff's face, now covered in blood and unable to get the air in to even scream, was permanently frozen in fear and agony as his torso bled out. Vader flicked a finger, and Kaine's body was flung far into the deep caverns of Mygeeto's cities.

The troopers looked at each other, then at Vader.

"You can tell the Emperor that his apprentice has no more use of him," Vader said, walking back to the camp. "Have my shuttle prepared to leave. I am going to Yaga Minor."


	9. Diplomacy

***THE FOLLOWING HAS BEEN UPLOADED FROM THE RECORDINGS OF A CONVERSATION BETWEEN TWO STORMTROOPERS, POSTED TO THE DEEPDOCKS ABOVE THE PLANET ORD MANTELL. THE RECORDINGS WERE RIPPED FROM THEIR BATTLE HELMETS UPON DISCOVERY AND RECOVERY. TROOPER BODIES WERE IDENTIFIED AS TK-870 AND HG-275***

**TK-870: **Man, I've never seen so many ships in one place. This thing's getting serious.

**HG-275: **It's crazy. You heard the stories from the front line?

**TK-870: **I heard it's a bloodbath, and we should be glad we're posted here, and not there. That's all I know, and that's all I want to know.

**HG-275: **I heard stories about zombies and ghosts cutting our guys to ribbons. I also heard-

**TK-870: **I don't want to hear it! It's all nothing but superstitious troopers encountering things they don't understand, so they call them zombies and ghosts. It's basic psychology.

**HG-275: **Oh, so you're a psychologist now? I thought you were Private Mason of the glorious fourth platoon of the Ord Mantell shipyards, unless I got that all wrong.

**TK-870: **So, what? Are you superstitious too? You think there are zombies out there?

**HG-275: **I dunno, man. I just think there's enough people talking about it, there has to be some truth behind it.

**TK-870: **Well it's not zombies. That's ridiculous.

**HG-275: **You never heard about the Project Blackwing Conspiracy?

**TK-870: **Project what now?

**HG-275: **Project Blackwing! It's an old conspiracy about how the Advanced Weapons Research program created zombies. That's why the planet Dandoran is quarantined.

**TK-870: **Come on…

**HG-275:** No, really! Look it up! It's a thing, millions of people believe it!

**TK-870: **I hate conspiracies. Just time wasters for people with nothing else going on in their lives.

**HG-275: **Whatever man, we'll see who's superstitious when that door comes down, and a zombie bites your head off.

**TK-870: **Yeah, we'll see.

There is a pause

**TK-870: **I can't get over how many ships are out there right now. That's gotta be at least three thousand of them. Just look at that.

**HG-275:** Seems like we'll need 'em. You read the briefings on the aliens we're fighting?

**TK-870: **What, about Orcs? Ugly fuckers. Hope I never meet one. They probably stink to high heaven.

**HG-275: **I don't even want to think about that. Can't believe there's Humans out there that fight alongside those things. The Easterites or whatever.

**TK-870: **Easterlings. No Idea why they're called that.

**HG-275: **Probably cause they're from the east, obviously.

**TK-870:** Yeah, obviously, but the east of what? A planet? A Quadrant? A city?

**HG-275: **No idea, I don't get paid to study etymology.

**TK-870: **I heard that the dead civilization they were studying along wild space, the Numernoreans, aren't so dead.

**HG-275: **Yeah, I heard. I also heard they have some serious firepower.

**TK-870: **Firepower or not, they're fighting the combined forces of an entire galaxy. It's a miracle they've gotten this deep into the Mid Rim as it is. (coughing)

**HG-275: **You alright?

**TK-870: **Yeah, just a cough. I've had it for a couple days. Should go away soon. (Coughing worsens)

**HG-275: **Cover your mouth, trooper!

**TK-870: **Very funny. (clears throat). Let me just take my helmet off and do that for you.

**HG-275: **I don't know, I feel like I'm ready to stomp some alien face! Just put me on one of those carriers, I'll make sure I kill my share.

**TK-870: **No thanks, I'm pretty comfortable here, but the rate things are going, you'll have your chance soon. They'll probably call us once the penal regiments are all used up.

**HG-275: **Clever use of prisoners, really. Throw murderers in flak armor, hand them a slugthrower and push them towards the enemy. Saves the prison budget millions, saves on the cost of execution and empties out the prisons.

**TK-870: **Keep the boys in white rested and ready to fight the real battles, too. Good riddance. Most of them are rebel scum anyway.

**HG-275: **What's the Empire doing about them right now?

**TK-870: **Probably nothing. We have bigger fish to fry than a couple Mon Cal and some old men in dirty senator robes. They'll still be kicking around once we deal with Mordor.

**HG-275: **Yeah, heard nothing about the contingency plan for keeping the Rebellion from taking advantage of this whole thing. For all we know, they could have taken half the outer rim by now.

**TK-870: **Does it matter? We'll be posted here until we die of old age, and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. When the Black Star cartel is your biggest problem, you're living the good life. We go our way, they go theirs. Easy money.

**HG-275: **I don't know how you like it here. I'm this close to shooting myself in the foot if it means it gives me something to do. I'd rather face a ghost at this point than stand here at this window one more day.

**TK-870: **You see that?

**HG-275: **What?

**TK-870: **That! Way past the fleet! That big black thing. Is that an Asteroid?

**HG-275: **Watch out!

(Explosions heard. There is some interference with the microphone, as it is assumed the troopers fall to the ground.)

**TK-870: **What the fuck was that?

**HG-275: **It's them!

(There is another explosion.)

**TK-870: **Boarding craft! Boarding craft!

**HG-275: **Let 'em have it!

(There is an exchange of blaster fire. There is a weak sound of Orc grunts and screams.)

**TK-870: **Get some!

**HG-275: **(heavy breathing and curses)

(Weapon fire ends)

**TK-870: **Is that all of them?

**HG-275: **I guess we caught them off-guard. Didn't expect us to be right here, did you?

**TK-870: **There's one still alive.

(muffled explosions continue. Sound of gurgling and laughing)

**TK-870: **What the hell are you?

**Unknown Orc: **(laughing and gurgling)

**HG-275: **I don't think he's able to speak.

**TK-870: **Fuck! He spat blood in my face!

(Blaster fire)

**HG-275: **Well, you were right. They stink.

(muffled blaster fire)

**TK-870: **Look at the fleet light 'em up. You ever seen something like that? Woah! What was that! That beam of green light! What was that?!

**HG-275: **No time to gawk, Let's get us some Orc heads before they overrun the docks!

(sound of a Nazgul screech)

**TK-870: **What...was that?

(Screaming and blaster fire. Nazgul screaming)

**HG-275: **Whatever it is, shoot it!

**TK-870: **There it is, light it up!

(Shuffling armor. Blaster fire)

**TK-870: **Die, die!

**HG-275: **Target won't go down! Run! Run!

(TK-870 screams. Audio is cut off)

**HG-275: **Mason!

(HG-275 roars with fear. Blaster fire. The swing of a bladed weapon. HG-275 screams. Silence. Muffled explosions. Sniffing noises, followed by metallic footsteps.)

**DESPITE LOSSES,** **ORD MANTELL HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY DEFENDED. THE MID RIM COMBINED FLEET HAS HELD BACK THE ATTACKING FORCE. NEW ECLIPSE-CLASS DREADNOUGHT TESTING MET EXPECTATIONS. **

**THIS AUDIO CONTAINS FURTHER EVIDENCE OF NAZGUL INVULNERABILITY. WEAPONS RESEARCH TESTING MUST BEGIN IMMEDIATELY TO COMBAT THE THREAT OF INCORPOREAL DARK FORCE ENTITIES. **

**THE SPREAD OF RUMORS ABOUT THE PROJECT BLACKWING INCIDENT MUST BE DEALT WITH WITH AS EXTREME DISCIPLINARY MEASURES AS COMMANDERS SEE FIT, UP TO AND INCLUDING SUMMARY EXECUTION. **

**THIS DOCUMENT IS TOP SECRET, BY ORDER OF THE IMPERIAL SPECIAL WEAPONS RESEARCH COMMAND.***

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Planet: Coruscant**

**Location: Imperial Palace**

**Subject: Sheev Palpatine**

Palpatine hunched over the Palantir, his mind locked in a battle of the minds with the Deceiver, the Necromancer, Sauron. For days, the Emperor's mind had been assaulted with visions of defeat. Imperial worlds falling before the uncountable horde. Black Fortresses arriving over Coruscant and raining fire into the trillion citizens below. Sauron's ring glowing on his finger. The stars going black as his darkness unveiled itself over the Galaxy.

"You are a poor liar, Mairon." Palpatine muttered. "We both know you are nothing without that ring. A foolish venture to place your power in something so easy to lose."

_Old Fool. Sith or not, you and your empire will fall, and they will serve me. _

Piles of Stormtrooper helmets burning as lines of Imperials in chains slowly trudged into the factories of Sauron's war machine to conquer the nearby galaxies.

"Who is the true fool?" Palaptine cackled. "Who is the one who fights trained armies with a rabble of abominations?"

Palpatine placed his concentration towards projecting his own thoughts into the Palantir. Twenty-five thousand Destroyers, millions of escort ships and vehicles, billions of men, all charging headlong into battle, weapons raised and hearts filled with the desire for vengeance. Hundreds of thousands of turbolasers soar across the void, obliterating the fleets of Mordor in brilliant flashes of flame. The Imperial Emblem flying over every world in the Unknown Regions. A flash of one green beam of energy, and Mordor, the planet of the enemy, would be no more.

His thoughts were quickly overwhelmed with visions of the plague that still swept across the galaxy. The millions of dying civilians and soldiers, groaning and crying from their slow painful deaths, only to rise up again as undead husks. Visions of great legions of Wights trudging across every world towards the ending of the Empire filled his thoughts.

"Enough!" Palpatine barked. "This is a false image! You will have to do better than that to frighten me!"

_I know you, Sith. I felt you, ten years ago...I felt...fear. It is a fear that exists deep within your mortal instincts, a fear that was born within the primates that looked up into the stars, and saw the stars go out as Morgoth and I undid the universe. I have subdued unnumbered worlds. I have fought gods and men. My armies are a never-ending tide of flesh. My weapons are the weak minds and bodies of your own soldiers. You were wise to fear me. You are foolish to ignore your instincts. Submit!_

"How long have we been engaging in this battle of minds, Maiar?" Palpatine asked. "Your words are empty. Sauron, the one who couldn't conquer even a single galaxy! The demigod who fell to a papercut! My armies are equally endless, and your element of surprise is long passed. What further surprises do you possess?! My weapons are built to obliterate planets, not conquer them! When we arrive above your world, you will be the one looking up at the stars as we lay waste to you and your time of the Maiar was over eons ago! The Sith have replaced you! I will take your ring, and I will be the one who conquers the universe! "

_The Ring will never obey a mortal. But if finding it is your goal, you had best make haste. My servants are already pursuing it as we speak._

Palpatine's thoughts were dragged across the galaxy to the Outer Rim, where an armada of thousands of ships burst from hyperspace into the Hoth System, each one adorned with the emblem of a white hand. Palpatine didn't immediately recognize the symbol, but the old stories told to him from Darth Plagueis quickly returned to him.

"It is of no concern." The Emperor dismissed. "The White Wizard is but one creature. He will be crushed. And so will you."

Palpatine took his hand away from the Palantir and pressed a button on his throne's armrest. The small hologram of Grand Admiral Takel flickered to life. His thinning hair was unkempt and his expression was that of exhaustion.

"Admiral. What news of the new dreadnoughts?" Palpatine asked.

"We have accelerated production, and have reduced the completion date down to five months per unit, my Lord. Testing at Ord Mantell has been successful." Takel answered.

"I can see even you yourself have been working hard to complete this task, Admiral." Palpatine said, eyeing the stress on the man's face.

"I know the stakes, Emperor." Takel replied. "We can rest when we win."

"Very good, Admiral. Continue your efforts."

"It will be done."

"And Admiral."

"Lord?"

"Prepare my shuttle. There is something I must tend to myself."

"Of course, Emperor."

With that, the blue glow of the hologram shut off, leaving the throne room dark and silent. Palpatine had been using the force to fuel his body for weeks, barely getting up to stretch his legs. Every advantage had to be taken. Every ounce of knowledge gained from the Palatir was invaluable. Every deceit and half-truth he could project to Sauron's mind, every fleet movement, every army's position, every false tidbit he fed to Sauron was another potential battle won. He knew his enemy was doing the same to him, sending him false details and incorrect fleet movements, but that just made it more interesting.

This new player, Saruman the White, would have to be dealt with personally. He would see whether the tales of Istari power were true or not firsthand. If they were, all the better to demonstrate the power of the Sith to the enemies of the Empire.

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**System: Sarrish**

**Ship: The Challenger**

**Location: The Cargo Hold**

**Subject: Mala Pong**

Mala looked long and hard at the massive vault before her. It was black, blacker than anything she had ever seen. No reflection at all, no light emanating from it. It was more like a hole in space, a void of nonexistence, than a vault. Yet there it stood, very much real, sitting in foreboding silence.

Despite the unnatural quiet of the thing, the walls of the vault almost screamed at her, screamed at her to open it and take what was inside. The Ring of Power, resting within its black walls, seemed still capable of influencing those around it, despite the Elves' attempts to mute it's call.

Mala had lost track of time sitting down here. Had she been staring at this black box for minutes? Hours? Days? It didn't seem to matter. The whispers of the box slowly grew louder as she stared, and her vision tunneled until nothing existed around her, save the blackness of that screaming box.

The weak grunt of a Wookiee came from above her on the catwalk, shocking her from her trance.

"Oh! Kazz...sorry, I was just-"

Shorkazza let out a concerned bark.

"Really? That long? I had no...idea…"

Mala stood up from the floor and grunted as her muscles screamed at her for sitting on the hard floor for so long. "What's the situation out there?"

The Wookiee explained to her. About the Imperial betrayal, about the escape as the Imperials fired at them. Mala furrowed her brow as she listened. She hadn't noticed a single thing. Even news of a battle was a surprise to her. She had heard no gunshots, no jump into hyperspace, nothing down there. Just the whispers of the Ring.

"Yeah, well...that's what they get for trusting even a single Imperial." She said, trying to ignore her confusion. "We do this ourselves. It's better that way anyway."

Kazz mumbled quietly.

"No, really, I'm fine, I was just...admiring the craftsmanship. The elves can make some crazy things."

Kazz looked at the black vault and cocked his head, seemingly suspicious of Mala's claims. I guess Wookiees prefer trees over ominous black boxes of evil. That was fair, Mala thought to herself.

"I think I should get out of here and get some sleep before tomorrow. The Briefing starts pretty early." Mala said, moving her way to the stairs leading to the halls outside. "I didn't realize how long I've been awake."

She met up with her Wookiee companion and took one last look down at the silent vault below. She couldn't help but stare one more time at the vault, the Ring inside still trying to communicate subconsciously to anyone who would listen. Let it out. Take it for yourself. Mala suddenly realized how tired she truly was.

/

Mala found herself surrounded by the bones of thousands of Twi'leks, scattered over ash-covered ground as far as the eye could see. She was on Ryloth. She knew the architecture well, despite the flames and damage the city around her had sustained.

She looked down. Her hand was clad in heavy black armor and covered in crusted Twi'lek blood. All about her, a rippling mass of Ocs and men swarmed, praising her very existence with screams of adoration. A massive mace, the edges of its flanges humming with arcs of plasma, sat in her other hand. She watched with horror as her body moved without her permission, lifting entire battalions of Twi'lek fighters with one hand, and throwing them into the distance. Their screams of fear rang across the battlefield. Anyone who came near her was smote down by her massive weapon as she strode calmly across the scarred landscape of her home planet.

Weapons bounced off her as if they didn't exist at all. Air fighters were crushed with but a flick of her finger. The very nature of Ryloth seemed at her command as with each step she took, her surroundings grew more and more distorted and corrupted. Plants died, earth shifted and storms raged.

Her free hand raised to the sky. The Gold Ring of power sat on her armored finger, the writings of an unknown dialect written in glowing letters around the band. With the aggressive closing of her fist, a Barloz-Class freighter fell from above the cloud cover and slammed into the planet, shooting up flame and dust, crushing uncountable numbers of Twi'lek warriors beneath it. She saw the dust of the shockwave rage towards her, but an unseen barrier stopped any of it from touching her. A Twi'lek warrior ran towards her, blaster firing and mouth gaping open with a roar of blind defiance. She held out her hand, pulling the Twi'lek into her waiting fingers. His eyes expressed pure fear, and in those wide, crying eyes, she saw her reflection. She was wearing a helmet of spikes and black steel. She finally recognized whose eyes she was looking through. The monster from the vision.

_This will be your doing, child. You will bring the Ring to my throne, and you will place it on my finger. It will be you who ends the galaxy. _

Her eyes shot open, and she immediately sat up in her bed. She rubbed her forehead, whipped the sweat-drenched sheet from her body and sat up. They were getting worse and ever-increasingly more vivid and frequent, these nightmares. At least one every week, now. She knew Gandalf said it would get worse the closer they got to the Unknown Regions, but they weren't even close yet. They hadn't even begun the journey. She sighed and wondered how much worse it would get, but it didn't matter tonight. There would be no more sleep for her. It was time for a shower and maybe take a walk to calm her nerves.

/

The ship was on its overnight shift, leaving the corridors of the cruiser empty, save for the occasional maintenance worker checking the odd panel along the way. She thought back to the dream. Surely, it was only a dream. There was no way Sauron himself was trying to contact her? Surely not. Surely a big evil guy like him was too busy conquering the galaxy to worry about a single Twi'lek rebel.

Even though she had explored much of the ship, the Challenger was still a big cruiser, and she had no idea how much more of it she had left to map out in her head before she had seen it all. She decided to take the time awake to try to orient herself some more within its seemingly endless decks and corridors, turning through hallways and doors she had never taken before.

Despite her attempts to avoid it, she eventually found herself turning into the corridor that led to the cargo hold. She sighed and walked by the door.

"Keep moving, Mala. Nothing in there for you." She said to herself.

Despite her protests, her body stopped involuntarily at the door leading down into the ship's bowels. The whispers returned to her mind, but she fought them. She forced her head away from the door and ran past it, turning down as many unknown corridors and rooms as possible. She wanted to get lost, to make sure she didn't come across that hall again on her journey through the ship.

She eventually happened across an officer's lounge, unlocked and completely empty. It appeared to be one of the very few rooms that possessed a large window that looked out into space, so she decided that no one would mind if she used it for a while, since no one was around to complain. She walked up to the pane and looked out into the fleet. Some ships had taken a few hits when the Imperials betrayed them and fired on them, and some of the escorts still showed black marks on their hulls. She watched the little droids dance around in the void, welding the hulls back into fighting shape. Beyond the fleet's perimeter was the Sarrish system. She watched as the two stars danced their slow gravitational dance around each other. It was calming, the quiet and emptiness of space. Still, she knew what was out there, what horrors awaited them all in the darkness of the abyss.

"Can't sleep either?"

Mala spun around. It was the general from the meeting on Yavin. He was dressed in not much more than a tunic, pants and his leather boots, as if he himself had just woken up himself.

"Sir!" She said bashfully. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

"Eh, you're fine, Pong." The General said, taking a seat on a nearby couch. "Way I see it, we're a rebellion, so why make rules like 'officers lounges are off-limits to enlisted ranks'? Take a seat. Please."

The general pointed an open palm to the chair across from him.

"Have we been introduced?" The general asked.

"I don't think so."

"Well, that's a crying shame. General Jan Dodonna. Pleased to meet the hero who helped kill one of the last inquisitors."

"Gandalf did the heavy lifting, honestly," Mala replied. "But pleased to meet you."

"No matter, just surviving one of them is good enough in my mind." Dodonna said.

"Why couldn't you sleep, sir?" Mala asked, taking the seat.

"Nightmares." The general said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I've been having them a lot recently. Can't stand it, I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks!"

"Me too…" Mala said. "Gandalf said we'd start feeling his influence the closer we got."

"So he says," The General replied. "But we haven't even gotten underway yet. Can't imagine how shit sleep's gonna get once we're in the thick of it."

"I'm trying not to think about that." Mala mumbled. "There's been other things on my mind."

"And what would that be?"

"The Vault. I don't think it's sealed properly."

"Nonsense." Dodonna scoffed. "Elrond guaranteed that Vault would keep that...thing from turning any of our men dark. That's what he said, and those pointy-eared bastards are so stuck up their own butts to dare give us a faulty product."

"I know, but still…" Mala said. "What are we going to do with it once we get to Mordor?"

"Well, Greybeard says we need someone to touch down on the planet's surface, reach the mountain and drop that thing into the magma. We do that, it's all over."

"Sorry sir, I meant who's going to do that?"

"You mean you weren't told?"

"Told what?"

"Did they not tell you why you were brought on this mission?"

Mala's face went pale. "You can't possibly-"

"Oh dear," Dodonna said. "I suppose you were also not told what the briefing is about. You're among a list of potential Ring-Bearers, as the wizard calls it. We're deciding tomorrow who gets the job of killing that Sauron bastard."

Mala's mouth sat gaped open. "Sir-"

"With respect, Pong, that's quite enough of that." Jan interrupted. "Now look, I've read your file. You've been sabotaging and infiltrating Imperial ships and bases since the start of the Ryloth freedom movement. You killed five Imperial Officers with a rusty knife and a thermal detonator in broad daylight in the streets of Naboo and escaped without even so much as a scratch. You infiltrated the damn Fortress Inquisitorius! I'm damn sure you can throw some jewelry into a volcano."

"It's not my life or my skills I'm worried about. It's the stakes." Mala replied. "To have the entire galaxy resting on my shoulders is-"

"It's a doozy, I'll grant you that." The general said, giving his beard a brush with his fingers. "But we're all in the same boat. If we fail, the galaxy is screwed."

Mala let out a stressful sigh and nodded her head. "It _is _a doozy."

"Well, since the galaxy is on the line, I suppose I should try and get some shut-eye before the briefing tomorrow." Jan said, standing up and tightening the fabric strap around his tunic. "I'll see you tomorrow at 1100."

"Will do, sir." Mala replied.

The general left the lounge, leaving Mala with her thoughts. Is that why they brought her? To sneak the most important thing in the galaxy right into the hands of the enemy? Did Sauron know that that was the plan? Is that why he said she would bring the ring straight to him? Was it all in her head? She rubbed her temples and looked at the time. Seven more hours before the briefing. Perhaps she could find a little more sleep in her tonight if she just laid down.

Accidentally, her eyes began to flutter shut where she sat, but the sudden flash outside the window woke her from her half-sleep.

Out the window, the sleek shapes of a dozen cruisers appeared just outside the perimeter of the fleet. They were sleek and brightly painted gold, and thin all along the hull. There were no discernable weapon turrets on its surface, but their low profile told her they were definitely ships of war. They were armored with overlapping layers of smooth, gold armor, decorated with lines and patterns that swooped and curved along their surfaces. At the stern, the layers of gold armor finned out, wallowing room for a cluster of engines. Mala recognized the architecture instantly.

"Elves?"

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Ship: The Shadow**

**Location: Atmosphere of Jhas, Hoth System gas giant. **

**Subject: Rojar Bosch**

Within a few short hours, the ship had fallen to chaos as mutiny broke out throughout the ship. Once word spread that the Empire had deemed the ship and its crew traitors for conspiring with rebels, thousands of troopers, pilots and crewmen began an attempt to retake the ship from the treasonous command crew. Despite the chaos, most of the ship stayed out of the mutiny, and there were enough marines and troopers to hold off the riot. Security droids were activated throughout the ship, and entire sections were blocked off or shut down as the riot grew deadly throughout the hundreds of decks.

"GET BACK! GET THE FUCK BACK NOW!"

Bosch stood behind a line of marines, who desperately pushed against the wall of mutineers. The screaming and fighting was deafening. The voices of the security droids were barely audible as the hulking hunks of metal helped hold back the rioting crew.

"I don't want to shoot all of you!" Bosch roared over the crowd, firing a warning shot into the ceiling. "You will disperse right now!"

His commands were drowned by the sounds of pushing and shouting. The fear and confusion among the crew had already grown too strong to be calmed. Bosch fought against himself to order the 'open fire' command and be done with this mess, but to escalate this further meant the deaths of thousands.

"Push!' He ordered, trying to keep the marines dwindling strength intact, and trying to avoid shooting anyone if at all possible.

They were losing ground to the mutinous wall of men, screaming for justice done against them and their reputations. Would they truly leave him no choice? Did he really have to escalate this? My rank for a few teargas grenades right now, he thought to himself.

But he had no gas grenades, no riot gear, nothing designed for such an event. Mass mutiny like this was considered unthinkable onboard Imperial ships, and no steps were ever taken to combat it. It was time to make the tough decision.

"Marines! Charge weapons!" Bosch roared. "Three rounds only! Open fire!"

The marines acted out the order, and the hall lit red with the rapid-fire of dozens of blasters. Mutineers fell by the dozens, and the crowds backed away, anger displayed proudly on all their faces. Bosch immediately recognized the mistake once the mutineers all began to pull out weapons of their own. Within seconds, the hall had become a kill zone.

Bosch tried to scream to hold fire, but his orders fell on deaf ears as the two sides fired full-auto into each other. There was no cover to take, no space for either the marines or the rioters to avoid incoming fire. Bodies fell by the hundreds as the marines kept losing ground. Bosch called a retreat over the radio, and the marines began to fall back through the corridor. The Security droids stayed behind to hold them off, but were quickly shot down.

Bosch waited until the last marine crossed the bulkhead, then he shot the panel, forcing the security override to kick in. The blast door closed behind them, locking the horde of mutineers behind it.

"I TOLD YOU TO HOLD FIRE!" Bosch screamed at the remaining marines. "BECAUSE OF YOU, WE HAVE AN ALL-OUT COMBAT ZONE ON OUR HANDS!"

His men stayed silent as they all caught their breath, the muffled sound of mutineers trying to break through the blast door quietly grew from behind the heavy slab of metal.

"Damn it, our job is to curb the fucking mutiny, not escalate it! Now, you follow my fucking orders when I give them, or I'll shoot you myself and save the rioters the trouble! We rendezvous with Three Company and fall back to the command tower! Move!"

/

Bosch's company ran through the corridors, closing bulkheads behind them. The halls to the bridge were closed off and guarded by squad after squad of troopers and marines, heavy weapon detachments and security droids in preparation for the worst. Bosch sprinted into the bridge and stepped in to update Commodore Tarwin, who was pacing back and forth with a pistol in his hand.

"What do you have for me?" Vanick asked the out-of-breath XO.

"We've sealed off the command tower, crew quarters decks, engine rooms, hyperdrive and the armory, but they took the hangar bay, main battery control rooms and vehicle stores." Bosch explained. "We've confined all non-essential personnel to quarters until this is resolved, but that still leaves eight-thousand angry people out there. We need to figure this out soon, or we risk them overriding the docking codes for the TIEs and flying up to the fleet waiting for us. They could give away our position."

"Shit." Vanick cursed, his pacing increasing in speed. "What have I done, what have I done…"

"Sir!" Bosch barked. "You're orders! We need them right now, or we could lose this ship!"

Bosch waited impatiently as the Inexperienced Commodore paced and whispered to himself.

"Damn it, sir, were you right about yourself?!" Bosch blurted. "Are you in command just because of who your father is, or are you going to make a decision?!"

Those words seemed to have pinched a nerve, because Vanick straightened up and stopped pacing quite suddenly, a cold scowl rested on his face.

"How many marines do we have on our side?" Vanick asked.

"Numbers aren't the problem." Bosch explained. "It's the hallways we'd have to clear to get anywhere. It's no man's land in those damn corridors. They built the Imperial-II to be good against outside threats, not inside ones."

Vanick paced some more. "Do we have access to the Hangar Bay atmospheric shields?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the airlocks and escape pods?"

"We do, the command consoles are all up here. Why?"

Vanick sighed. "Give me access to the ship PA, and fire off every escape pod that the mutineers have access to."

"What's in your head, sir?"

"I'm about to be the thing I never wanted to be."

Bosch's face went cold. He walked to the communication station, asked for a remote communicator, and handed it to the Commodore. Vanick waited for confirmation that the escape pods were all released, then raised the little circle of metal to his mouth.

"This is Commodore Tarwin." He started. "Right now, I have my finger on the button to expose you all to the planet's atmosphere. In five minutes, I will open every airlock on every deck you have senselessly killed your own brothers-in-arms to take, and I will let the crushing pressure and the toxic gasses kill you all off. If the pressure differential and the toxic fumes don't kill you, I will shut down the artificial gravity on those decks, and I'll let the crushing gravity of Jhas finish you off. I have already released the escape pods, so do not assume you can escape. I doubt those things can fight the gravity of the planet even if you tried. If a single TIE leaves the hangar, I will release the airlocks. If you try to break through the blast doors, I will release the airlocks.

"If I do not hear from the leader of this mutiny in the five minutes allotted to you, I will not hesitate to empty this ship of every single backstabbing one of you. Your five minutes starts now."

Vanick dropped the communicator to the floor and sighed.

"Now you're starting to sound like an Imperial Commodore." Bosch said sternly.

"Commander, ensure those airlocks are ready to let in the atmosphere," Vanick said, looking at his watch, "they have four minutes and fourty-three seconds."

"Sir, are we really doing this?" Bosch asked.

"There are eight-thousand mutineers on this ship." Vanick said. "If you have a better method of dealing with this, short of fighting a small war, please make me aware of it."

Bosch stayed silent and gave the nod to the systems operator, who nodded back. Vanick looked out into the black of the planet's thick atmosphere and looked down at the turrets.

"You said they took the turret controls?" Vanick asked.

"They did." Bosch replied.

"Shut down all navigational and exterior lights. If they try to fire on the command tower, I don't want it to be a visible target, but I doubt they would. They need to navigate out of the planet, same as us."

"Yes, sir."

"And the bridge lights. Shut it all down."

All at once, the lights illuminating the hull of the destroyer went out, followed by the bridge lights. Bosch joined the Commodore at the window and waited silently. The lightning quickly flashing across the blackness lit their grim faces. Bosch looked at his watch.

"Two minutes, twenty-four seconds." He announced.

"Thank you." Vanick said.

The room was deathly silent. Every officer in the workstations were still, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Thirty seconds…

Vanick stood solemn and still. Bosch saw the Commodore's hands shaking violently out of the corner of his eye.

How did it come to this?

"Commodore!" The communication officer called out. "Someone who claims to be their leader just hailed us."

Vanick sighed with relief and quickly went over to the comms station, jumping into the pit and turning on the comm screen.

"Identify yourself." Vanick said.

"GI-540. Lieutenant Cull. I'm leading this mutiny." The man on the screen replied.

"Cull?" Vanick said. "Small galaxy…"

"Truly." Cull replied. "I believe we have things to discuss."

"You are in no position to discuss anything." Bosch barked. "We have the finger on the trigger. Surrender yourself and your co-conspirators and we won't open those airlocks on you."

"Conspirators?" Cull blurted. "That's precious, coming from a bunch of traitorous rebel-lovers! Is that why the mission was top secret? To keep us from realizing what we were truly doing?"

"Word spreads fast." Bosch muttered. "Give us one reason not to blast you all with methane and ammonia right now."

"I have a very good reason." Cull said snidely. "Some of the crew you confined to quarters are here with us, ranging from officers to janitors. We managed to grab them before you shut all the blast doors on us. You suffocate us, you suffocate them., and I don't think the rest of the crew would appreciate that at all."

"Cut the communication." Vanick barked.

The screen shut off, and Vanick let out a loud curse as he whipped his pistol across the room.

"FUCK!" He grunted.

"Sir…" The comms officer said nervously. "They're hailing us again."

Vanick composed himself, then turned to Bosch. "Suggestions?"

"We have to hear them out. We can't depend on this crew if we murder the loyal ones. If we want out of this atmosphere…"

"Very well. Open the channel." Vanick ordered.

The screen flickered on again, and Cull's face flashed on its blue surface.

"I'm sorry," Cull said with a cheeky grin. "Bad connection?"

"Name your terms." Vanick grumbled.

"Firstly," Cull started. "We are willing to cooperate with the traitors until we escape the fleet and reach the nearest Imperial system. We demand safe passage there."

"That can be arranged." Vanick said.

"Secondly," Cull continued. "Upon reaching said system, the traitor, Commodore Tarwin, and Lieutenant Commander Bosch will surrender themselves to the authorities."

"No." Vanick said instinctively. "Never gonna happen. We have a mission to complete. We will drop you all off at the nearest Imperial system and be on our way."

"Now, Commodore. I don't think you realize how delicate your position is, right now." Cull said calmly. "I don't think the crew protecting you want to be labeled as traitors. How many of them have families, Commodore? What will happen to those families when they are found to be related to traitors? Can you risk that to save your own skin? What about my hostages? How many deaths do you want to be responsible for?"

Bosch stared closely at Vanick's face.

"This is a question of the entire galaxy, Lieutenant."

"That is another thing!" Cull shouted. "We weren't told anything about this mission! For all we know, we're delivering milk to Bespin! Maybe if we knew the mission, we could understand each other better. Hell, if it's truly so important, perhaps it may be worth our time! So tell us, Commodore. What's your important secret mission?"

Vanick looked to Bosch, who gave a shrug. "What do we have to lose at this point?"

Vanick turned back to the screen. "I'll tell the whole crew. If I tell you, I want half the hostages released."

"A quarter." Cull said.

"Fine." Vanick replied behind clenched teeth.

"Pick a deck, I'll bring them there, and pass them to you. Any weapons, we kill them all."

"Crew quarters." Vanick said. "They go back to their rooms."

"Done." Cull said. "Now, go ahead and tell the whole crew what mission we're risking our families for."

"Send a team to rendezvous with the hostage exchange." Bosch ordered the tactical officer.

Vanick pulled himself out of the control pit and picked the communicator that was sitting on the ground where he dropped it.

"This is Commodore Tarwin." Vanick said over the PA. "I have spoken with Lieutenant Cull, and have come to an understanding that the secrecy of the mission you were all tasked with has caused suspicion and confusion among the crew, and had I explained the situation earlier, perhaps this incident could have been avoided.

"First off, we are all aware of the war currently being fought along the Outer Rim. Millions are deployed to the front line, and thousands of ships are holding the invasion at bay. Many of the crew know someone who is fighting, whether it is family or friends, and we all wish them victory.

"Second, we know the war is costing our Empire. We cannot hold them off forever, should they keep coming at us the way they are. Someone has to give eventually, and despite our best efforts, they pressed the advantage of surprise, and caught us unprepared for a galactic scale invasion. It's because of this that the Empire should take advantage of every strategy that will end this war quickly. I believe we have found that strategy.

"The leader of the invasion is a force user of extreme power. We believe we have found a way to cut the head from the snake. The Rebellion has discovered an artifact that is connected somehow to the enemy's life force. Should this artifact be destroyed, the enemy, in essence, will die, and the invasion will end.

"The artifact is impervious to conventional weaponry, and so it must be taken to the place it was built to be destroyed. This requires us to venture into the Unknown Regions, find the planet and destroy the artifact.

"The Rebellion and the Empire currently have a common enemy. So yes, I waved our differences for the time being to fight a worse threat, and yes, I took a risk trusting them, but it is apparent to me now that the true risk was trusting our own. The Empire has abandoned all of us to death, and yet Lieutenant Cull wants to see you fight for them, even in your ex-communication. They want you all dead just to prove a point. It's time to think about what hill you want to die on.

"My terms are this. Those with families may disembark this ship and return home and try to find a way to hide yourselves and for loved ones from the Imperial authorities. Those who believe their place is on the front line may also disembark, beg for a pardon and join the war effort. Those who want to join our mission can stay aboard and join us in the Unknown Regions. I believe that when the history books are written, they will write the names of the ones who braved the Unknown Regions and ended the war. They will sing tales of our heroism in the face of unknown evils. Whether you want your own names in those books and songs is up to you. It's time to forgive each other's past transgressions and end this senseless mutiny, so we can all go on protecting the Empire in the way we each see fit."

Vanick placed the communicator in his pocket and returned to the screen, where Lieutenant Cull was waiting.

"Touching." Cull said coldly. "So, you believe you can end the war by destroying some...thing?"

"I know we do." Vanick said confidently. "I'm no traitor, I want the Empire safe just as much as you do. I believe we can do it."

Cull paused and sighed. "Agreed. The terms are accepted. We go our separate ways, and no more Imperials die on this ship."

"No more Imperials die." Vanick agreed.

"Then we have an accord. I suppose we should get back to work on that hyperdrive."

"How do we know you won't kill us if we let you live?" Vanick asked.

"How do we know you won't just shoot us into space?" Cull asked. "Same reason we won't restart the killing. We want to live, we want to protect the Empire, we want to see our families again. Just get us off this ship and we'll let you wander into the Unknown Regions to die in mysterious and horrific ways."

The screen flicked off. Vanick turned to Bosch. "How was that for public speaking?"

"It worked, so who gives a shit." Bosch replied. "Let's get out of this damn planet already."

"Where do you suggest we drop off the mutineers?" Vanick asked.

"I say Bespin." Bosch said. "It's a neutral world, so we won't risk getting bumped while we drop them off."

"There is a small garrison there."

"Not big enough to worry about. They wouldn't risk attacking the Shadow, she'd rip them to shreds with one volley."

"I suppose it's also on the way to Sarrish. We drop them off and meet up with the rebel fleet. Right, then. Let's do that."

/

"Prep to break orbit. All hands beat to quarters. The fleet may still be up there, so we may have to fight our way out."

The red alert was called, and once again, the alarm wailed obnoxiously throughout the ship. Bosch caught his balance as the ship suddenly altered course and shot upwards through the black depths of the planet. The darkness slowly began to fill with light, revealing the colours and swirling patterns of Jhas' windswept atmosphere. Eventually, the ship broke the cloudline and exposed her hull to the light of the system's star.

"Sir, I'm not picking up any ship signals. At all…" The sensor operator announced.

Bosch turned his head with confusion to the officer. "Nothing?"

"Nothing, sir."

Bosch looked to Vanick, who had an equally confused look on his face.

"Perhaps they're waiting behind a moon to ambush us." Bosch hypothesized.

"Sir, there's a debris field in our way."

"Debris field?" Vanick repeated to himself. "From what?"

"I'm not sure...wait…" The sensor operator paused. "I'm getting faint Imperial signatures. It's the fleet."

"What?" Bosch exclaimed. "What happened out here?"

Out the window, the small chunks of metal and bodies slowly came into view. Smoking engines and sparking electronics of the ships of war floated mindlessly, kilometers from their bow.

"Do we have time to evade?" Vanick asked.

"Not in the Shadow, sir." The navigator replied. "Her turn radius is too wide, and we'll be in the debris by the time we are able to slow her down."

"Will any of it damage us if we hit?"

"There are some big pieces out there, sir."

Bosch looked away from the window as the terrified face of a dead Imperial engineer floated by the bridge. Vanick must have noticed as well because he looked down at the ground when the corpse passed by.

"I guess we'll have to blast our way through." Vanick sighed.

Bosch twitched. "Sir, those are Imperial soldiers out there. They deserve a proper retrieval and burial."

"I know." Vanick muttered. "But we don't know what happened here, and we need to leave before whatever killed them comes back. Don't hit any bodies unless you absolutely have to, but keep this ship intact."

"Aye, sir." The tactical officer replied.

All at once, the hundreds of turrets across the Shadow's hull began to open fire on the chunks of debris blocking the ship's path. Green turbolaser soared into the distance, creating a bubble of protective fire around the hull.

"Sir, I'm picking up another signature in the debris field. It's not Imperial." The sensor operator said.

"What is it?" Bosch asked.

"I'm not sure, it's nothing on record, but it's coming within visual range...now."

Bosch squinted out the command window. "Is that it there? That big black chunk, about fifty degrees port? You see it?"

Vanick looked in the direction. Sure enough, there sat a large piece of black metal, slowly spinning through the void. As it slowly rotated, the symbol of a white hand painted on its surface turned into view.

"A white hand?" Vanick said quietly. "I don't know that symbol."

"Another faction at play here?" Bosch grumbled. "Don't we have enough problems?"

"We have to assume whoever it was, they came to Hoth to take the Ring. This system is too obscure for any other reason." Vanick concluded. "We have to get to the fleet as soon as possible. If they can destroy a fleet, they can destroy us even easier."

The ship continued its bleak passage through the debris field, passing more and more pieces of black chunks, and bodies of scowling monsters in black armor were visible among the wreckage.

Hideous muscled creatures with helmets covering their eyes, but leaving their mouths exposed to space. Their open maws scowled, revealing their fangs and canines. Some wore nothing on their heads, revealing their powerful jaws, long black hair, and dark, furious eyes. Vanick and Bosch looked at each other with concern as hundreds of these creatures floated by. Finally, the ship breached the ship graveyard and was ready to leave the system.

"All hands, prepare for hyperspace travel, set course for the Bespin system. And turn off that damn alarm!" Bosch shouted.

The red alert shut off, and the Shadow slowly lined itself up with the hyperspace lane. The engines charged up, and the stars stretched around them until finally, the Shadow lunged into hyperspace.

"Am I the only one who isn't going to sleep tonight?" Vanick asked.

"I'll be keeping a knife and a fully-loaded pistol under my pillow, sir. I'll make sure security is on full alert, just in case." Bosch replied.

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Ship: The Mouth's flagship, The Uliima-ob Nugakmog (Throne of Torment)**

**Location: Hyperspace, Enroute to Mandalore**

**Subject: The Mouth**

The Black Numenorean sat on his throne, staring out into the great tunnel of hyperspace that stretched infinitely before them. He stared into the tunnels often, as it soothed his fractured mind. The dance of the blue swirls was a nice reprieve from the bleak decor of his ship. He was still human, after all, and still found pleasure in the beauty of nature. Be that as it may, he found more pleasure in the breaking of weak things, and if he had to choose between a tree's life and an enemy's pain, he would strap that enemy to the tree and burn both alive for all he cared.

The Black Numenorean crew bustled around him, checking sensors and systems. Not long ago, Orcs were charged with crewing the Black Fortresses, but it quickly became apparent that it was more of a liability to have those grunting, hobbling creatures doing anything more than menial maintenance work onboard. So it became the task of the higher species to crew the bridge. The Mouth was so distracted by the dance of hyperspace that he didn't realize the approach of his first officer.

"My Lord." The Numenorean commander said. "We are about to drop from hyperspace over Mandalore."

"Excellent." The Mouth replied, "Ready the ambassadors. Their houses are divided and vulnerable, and many are ready to be joined with the Dark Tower. Clan Eldar has already devoted their allegiance to us. We must see to it that the rest of them see reason."

"Yes, Lord."

The Numenorean bowed and went to work. Not much long after, the Nugakmog, the multi-kilometer warship of the Black Tower's Lieutenant, dropped out of hyperspace. Before them sat the planet Mandalore; a desert wasteland, not much more than a planet-sized battlefield. The Mouth cocked his head with surprise when he realized that what awaited them was not a quiet vulnerable planet. As they drew closer to it, the small outlines of Imperial warships came into focus. Hundreds of them.

"They were expecting us. Clever little men…" The Mouth whispered to himself with a sneer. "Hail them and prepare to engage at my command, but skirt their effective weapons range. We shall see what diplomacy can offer us first."

The Numenorean crew shuffled around, activating the massive ship's shields and weapons.

"Lord, they have answered our hail." The raspy voice of the communications operator barked.

The Mouth nodded, and the viewscreen switched to the face of an Imperial admiral.

"This is Admiral Draven Tarwin." The middle-aged Officer stated. "I've been looking for you a long time. You're even uglier than I imagined."

"And so you have found me." The Mouth replied. "Yet, despite your disgust of me, you answer my hail. Why is that, Admiral?"

"You have me mistaken, Numenorean." Draven replied. "This is not diplomacy. It's a message to your crew, and everyone you've corrupted to your cause."

"They cannot hear you at this moment, Admiral, but if you would like me to patch you through my systems, I would be more than welcome to." The Mouth smiled, nodding to his bridge crew to do so. "You may speak to them now. They are all listening."

"This is Admiral Draven Tarwin, Commander of the Seventeenth Expansion Fleet." The Admiral said, his voice echoing through the dark hall, where thousands of Orcs, Nightsisters, and numerous other species listened quietly. "This is a message to the citizens of the Empire that have committed treason by joining your allegiance to this war criminal. This is your only warning. Return to your worlds, and there will be no charges placed upon you. Fail to do so, and you and your entire family will be found guilty of treason."

"Oh, those are some harsh terms, Admiral." The Mouth replied. "Tell me, Draven Tarwin, why do you believe these creatures abandoned the 'glorious' Empire in the first place?"

Admiral Tarwin stayed silent, caught off-guard by the question.

"You do not see the truth hidden in your very words?" The Numenorean continued. "You do not see that the Empire's tightened grip has let so many slip through the fingers? Do you not see? All of these creatures, every Wookiee, every Zabrak, every Nemoidian, every single one comes to me, and do you know why? Because I give them hope. Hope for freedom from you."

"You have murdered entire worlds who didn't surrender to you." Tarwin replied calmly. "You are no symbol of hope. You are a war criminal and a murderer."

The Mouth smiled. "Ah, the slowness of the devolved forms of men continues to intrigue me. Very well, allow me to explain to thee; I am _indeed _a symbol of hope for those who join my master in his conquest. Yes, those who resist are destroyed, but I cannot hope to compare to the Empire's affinity for the ending of worlds. Tell me, what did the souls of Jedha do to deserve a fiery, painful end? What did the hundred thousand brave, loyal Imperial soldiers on Scarriff do to warrant their execution? Alderaan, Despayre, the Garrison moon of Kessel, Kalaan, Callos, Caamas, Dankayo, and so many many more! Nothing I do can live up to your evil, Admiral.

You have enslaved and crushed these poor souls beneath your boot heels with genocide and slavery. I raised them up! I give them power, I can tell you one thing, Admiral; I have never seen a Zabrak happier than when he is freely slaughtering your kind. No, Draven Tarwin. Your threats of treason fall on deaf ears. These people are free from you now. Now, go and do what you do best. Abandon this world to its fate. Mandalore is mine, now. Perhaps next, I will take Coruscant."

"You will never reach Coruscant." Tarwin scoffed. "And if you do, you'll be walking into the most fortified space in the galaxy. Even with an entire galaxy of aliens behind you, you could never breach Coruscant's defenses."

"Such confidence." The Mouth said with a frown. "And yet that confidence couldn't save thee from your son's betrayal."

Tarwin's face twitched.

"How did you know-"

"A father betrayed by his own son, I can't imagine why your men wouldn't see that as a failure. Admiral Tarwin, the man who couldn't even instill loyalty in his own offspring. What kind of commander are you, then? You're a poor father, a poor commander, and a poor negotiator. I would sleep lightly tonight if I were you. If your own son can turn so readily against you, you couldn't possibly know when your men will be next."

Tarwin scowled silently, then turned off the transmission. The Mouth sneered with gleeful sadism.

"Lord, they are readying weapons."

"Stay out of weapon's range." He replied. "We lay siege to the planet. Jam communications. We shall test their resolve when their last drop of water has been drunk, and their last bit of food has been eaten. Signal the armada."

A few short minutes later, out of hyperspace came the fruit of the Mouth's work. An armada of ships from every planet he helped turn to Sauron's cause. Old relics from the Clone Wars, Lucrehulks and Acclamator class ships, Banking Clan Frigates, and an assortment of recovered republic ships filled the space around the Nugakmog. Pirate and smuggler vessels of various sizes, Mandalorian cruisers from Clan Eldar, along with two Black Fortresses leading the formation moved alongside the Mouth's flagship. On the viewscreen, the face of an Orc commander appeared.

"What is your command?" The Orc asked.

"Encircle them." The Mouth replied. "Either they risk defeat by fighting us, or they risk starvation by staying. If they leave, they open Mandalore's gates for us. Defeat is their only option. How they see fit to lose is now in their hands.

It was at that moment that out of hyperspace, directly behind the Mordor Lieutenant's armada, came a second Imperial fleet, brimming with new weapons and armor, fresh from the shipyards. With a volley of turbolaser beams and more massive superlaser batteries, the smaller ships of the Mordor fleet were instantly ripped apart.

"What was that?!" The Mouth shrieked.

"Behind us, my Lord! They came from nowhere!" A Numenorean screamed.

"All hands, return fire! Return fire!" The Mouth shouted as the ship's war horns began to blare.

As the Imperial fleet unloaded thousands of ion and laser rounds into the disorganized armada, the fleet orbiting the planet began to move into firing range and joined their sister fleet in pelting them in a crossfire.

"Retreat into hyperspace!" The Mouth roared.

"Yes, my lord!"

The bridge shook, knocking torches from the walls. Sparks and flame burst from consoles, electrocuting, and burning anyone nearby. The Mouth sat back into his throne and stared out the viewscreen. He watched as his Armada was slowly chipped away. Fighters were scrambled but were of no use. They were outnumbered and outgunned. The aging ships scavenged by the corrupted fleet were no match for the brand new Star Destroyers, built specifically to hunt them down.

"Why are we still here?!" The Mouth asked desperately.

"We can't enter hyperspace!" Came the reply. "We're caught in some sort of gravity well!"

"What?!"

The bridge shook again as more and more Imperial ships moved in range. Then, he saw something among the Imperial formations.

"That ship." He said. "What is that?"

The viewscreen closed in on the ship that drew his attention. It was a Star Destroyer, but protruding from its hull were four massive spheres.

"They are creating a gravity well." The Mouth stated. "We must retreat out of its range if we are to escape!"

"I will inform the fleet to retreat!"

"No! The Mouth roared. "Let them entertain our enemy. They will give us time to run. Tell the Fortresses to fall back to these coordinates."

The Mouth punched some numbers into his throne console, marking the coordinates for their escape. The Numenoreans looked at each other with hesitation.

"But my Lord," One said. "The fleet is loyal-"

"They are pawns, nothing more!" The Mouth roared. "Take me to these coordinates!"

The Numenoreans turned back to their speaking consoles and punched in the commands into the ship's computer. At once, the Fortress tilted and moved away from the battle, followed by the other Fortresses. The Nugakmog continued to take hits as it ran, but the Imperials were too bogged down by the remaining armada to pursue.

"Lord, we are out of the gravity well."

"Very well. We regroup at Dathomir. Then, we will decide where our next move shall be."

With that, the Mouth abandoned Mandalore. His fleet could only watch as the Black Fortresses limped away, then zipped into hyperspace, leaving them to be obliterated. The Nemoidians begged for mercy, Nightbrothers rammed their ships into the enemy, and Devaronians devoted their last power reserves to their weapons. The rest either tried to run, tried to follow their master, or tried to surrender.

Sadly, no mercy was given. Just like Admiral Tarwin said. They were given the chance to return to their homes peacefully. They did not. Now it was time to pay for their treason. Within minutes, the ragtag fleet of alien rebels was nothing but ash floating through the void.

The Mouth had tasted defeat for the first time. He hadn't anticipated the technologies available to the Empire. Gravity well generators...turbolaser beams...superlasers...he should have known. He sat in his throne, strategizing and trying to think of what to do next.

"What now, Lord?"

"The damage has been done. The mission cannot be retrieved now. We have been most thoroughly beaten," He replied. "But there is one last thing we must do before we return to Mordor. The Elves have slithered from hiding. We must pay them a visit."


	10. The Hunt

**URGENT: REPORTS OF INCREASED UNREST IN IMPERIAL POPULATION, REQUEST ORDERS**

**This message is classified as extremely urgent due to emergency situations rising on multiple worlds. **

**Situation: The entire Corellian Sector is experiencing civil unrest and panic. The incurable Plague has spread into the Mid Rim and is expected to reach the Core Worlds within the year, which includes this sector. The mental state of the galactic population is reported to be decreasing exponentially, with reports of entire populations falling prey to insomnia caused by nightmares and schizophrenia-like symptoms, which include the hearing of voices and apocalyptic delusions. Strange cults forming around the symbol of an eye have been discovered in lower-income territories, and are wreaking havoc with supply lines and sabotaging factories. **

**Not only does this interfere with conscription of able-bodied men for the war effort, but the production of weapons and equipment has been stifled by crippled workforces. We need ships, and we cannot produce them in large enough quantities to supply the navy with sustainable replacements for destroyed vessels. **

**Request orders on what we should do to quell this crisis. We are very limited on manpower and could use reinforcements to stem the unruly citizens. I want my sector to get back to work. I will devastate entire cities into submission if I have to, but I would like to hear from the Capital before I follow through with such unpleasantries, considering the circumstances. **

**For the Empire,**

**Naomi Dargon**

**Grand Moff of the Corellian Sector**

**RE: URGENT: REPORTS OF INCREASED UNREST IN IMPERIAL POPULATION, REQUEST ORDERS**

**GRAND MOFF,**

**PLEASE SEE ATTACHED ORDERS. **

**PLANETARY SUBMISSION BY ANY MEANS IS AUTHORIZED. ANY CITIZEN INCAPABLE OF WORKING SHALL BE CONSIDERED A TRAITOR AND MUST BE TREATED AS SUCH.**

**THE CULTS MUST BE ELIMINATED. ANY TRACE OF EYE PARIPHANILIA MUST BE DESTROYED AND ERASED FROM THE RECORDS. IRIDONIA HAS BEEN LOST TO THIS CULT, AND OTHERS HAVE FOLLOWED. WE MUST NOT LET THIS CULT FLOURISH UNDER OUR NOSES.**

**THE EMPIRE MUST HAVE SHIPS, AND THE PEOPLE MUST FULFILL THEIR DUTY, SICK, TIRED, DYING OR OTHERWISE. **

**THE LOGISTIC BRANCH HAS AUTHORIZED THE SHIPMENT OF FRESH SLAVES TO REPLACE ANY CORELLIAN CITIZENS UNABLE TO WORK.**

**FAILURE TO MEET YOUR QUOTA WILL RESULT IN SEVERE DISCIPLINARY MEASURES. **

**FILL YOUR QUOTA, OR FACE THE EMPEROR'S WRATH.**

**FOR THE EMPIRE,**

**THRAX GRIFFITH,**

**ADVISOR,**

**THE OFFICE OF THE EMPEROR.**

**/**

**Year: 1ABY**

**Ship: The Challenger**

**Location: The Sarrish System**

**Subject: Mon Mothma**

"This is it? This is the fleet?"

"Apparently so."

"It's not enough. Where are the ships from the Imperials?"

"Long story short, they had second thoughts. We won't be seeing help from them."

"It's just not enough..."

The leaders of the fleet all stood around the briefing table. Elrond, Mothma, Gandalf, General Dodonna and Admiral Ryda each had a grim look of disappointment on their faces as they read the fleet readout. A mere three-dozen ships was the tally for the entire journey, including logistics, medical and other support craft.

"It's what we have. I've done more with less." Mothma said. "I blew up the Death Star with two squadrons of fighters and bombers. Imagine what I can do with three-dozen ships of the line"

"The Death Star was not seventy-thousand lightyears of hazardous space." Elrond argued. "In that place, there are horrors your men could not dream of in their wildest nightmares. Worlds overtaken by corruption, the very nature of space is warped by the echoes of Morgoth's thoughts. Demons live there, more ancient than can be counted by means of linear time."

"And with that pep-talk out of the way, let's decide on our plan of approach." Ryda said impatiently. "We have two options available to us. Both are less-than-ideal."

The hologram floating above the table flickered to reveal the map of the galaxy. The fleet's position in the south quadrant was depicted by a green dot hovering over the Sarrish System.

"From what Elrond has told us, the Mordor System is here," Dodonna said as a red dot appeared in the north section of the blank section of the Galaxy. "This means that we are precisely on the opposite side of the galaxy. Our two options are this."

The map flickered, and two yellow lines carved their way through the galaxy. One traveling primarily through the Unknown Regions, and one piercing through Imperial Space.

"We can enter the Unknown Regions through the underbelly," Ryda explained. "We take the hyperspace route to Takodama, to Cerea, Endor, and finally to Bakura, where we will refuel and restock to finally make our way north through the Unknown Regions. From there, our only known stops before we enter the territories of Mordor are Rakata Prime and Chiss territory, that is, if they're not suffering from this as much as we are. From there, We're on our own."

"The other option is to take the north route." Dodonna continued. "We head straight north through Yag'Dhul, Hosnian Prime, Coruscant, Bilbringi, Dorin, Glee Anselm, Ansion and finally cut straight into Mordor Territory."

"That's suicide," Mothma said. "And extremely foolish. Flying over Coruscant is absolutely out of the question."

"Both options are dangerous in their own right." Ryda said.

"What if we go around the long way?" Mothma asked, pointing to the outskirts of the galaxy. "We walk the perimeter of the outer rim and come all the way around. That keeps us close to Alliance worlds and reduces risk."

"That would add months to our journey, and it takes us too close to Hutt space," Dodonna replied. "Intelligence reports the cartels are devoting resources to finding the Ring, now that rumors are spreading. The last thing we need is those slugs getting their hands on it."

"So our choices are: risk the hyperspace anomalies of the Unknown Regions, risk the entire Empire finding us as we sneak an entire fleet through their space, or we go all the way around, waste time and risk encountering the Hutts." Mothma clarified.

"It appears we only have one true choice," Gandalf said. "We take the dark path up through the Unknown Regions. Lord Elrond will pilot us through the anomalies, as he did all those years ago."

Elrond bowed his head. "I will not be joining you."

"What?" Mothma exclaimed. "But the elven fleet-"

"The Noldor battlefleet will be yours, I have not forgotten my oath," Elrond interrupted. "But it will not be me who commands it."

Elrond looked to the door, which slid open with a hiss. In walked another elf male. His hair was golden, almost glistening in the light of the hologram. He wore heavy armor decorated with the utmost attention to detail and artistry. His chin was unnaturally defined and his eyes were warm but menacing, like a gentle soul who had seen too many wars, and yet still retained his compassion.

"This is Glorfindel of the Firstborn." Elrond said. "He will lead the Noldor fleet alongside you. He knows the path through the Unknown Regions better than anyone who yet lives."

Glorfindel bowed. "Senator Mon Mothma. Admiral Ryda of the Mon Cal. General Dodonna of men. Gandalf the Grey, old friend. Nothing honours me more than to join you in your quest to defeat the last remnants of Morgoth's evil in this galaxy."

"Your expertise and leadership are greatly appreciated," Mothma replied before turning back to Elrond. "But why send him and not yourself?"

"My people are readying for their final departure." Elrond explained. "I am their leader, and my place is with them."

"Very well." Mothma sighed. "Welcome to the fleet, Glorfindel."

"It is settled." Gandalf said. "We take the Shiritoku Way through the South of the galaxy."

"Now, the job of choosing who will throw the damn thing into the mountain." Dodonna said. "I had a talk with my choice this morning. Mala Pong has already shown her resourcefulness and ability for the last ten years. She's my pick."

"She is a child." Ryda said. "The task of infiltrating Mount Doom shouldn't go to someone who hasn't lived half a lifetime. We can't ask that of her."

"Mala and Grey Team have proven their worth. They escaped five Nazgul without backup or heavy weapons. They're the ones to do it." Mothma argued.

"We already have plenty of teams ready to do the job!" Ryda said irritably. "Mala is a capable infiltrator, but I read the Nur reports. Half of her team died down there retrieving the Ring. Correct me if I'm wrong, but a fifty percent survival rating is not 'proving their worth'. Send Danger Squadron or Rogue Squadron, not Grey Team!"

"It is not up to us to decide." Gandalf interrupted. "This task is not something to thrust upon someone with an order and a push out the door. They must choose it themselves."

"That's not how the military works, wizard." Ryda blurted. "Orders are issued and carried out, no exceptions. That's how wars are won."

"This task is larger than a war!" Gandalf said, his voice growing frustrated. "This is a matter of all life in existence! Sauron's power grows with every moment we sit here!"

The room began to erupt slowly into an indiscernible argument about who would be sent down to Mordor's surface. Mon Cal or Human. Smuggler or Spy. The argument continued for minutes before a shout from the door silenced them all.

"I'll do it!"

Gandalf spun around. "Mala."

"It's 1045, so I'm a bit early for the briefing." Mala said, standing in the doorway. "Am I too early? I can come back if this is not my business-"

"No, no." Mothma said. "It's fine. Come in."

Mala stepped into the room, letting the door hiss shut behind her.

"I'll do it." She said. "I'll kill the bastard."

"Mala," Ryda said. "You don't know what risks you would take even holding that thing."

"I saw what it does." Mala said. "I saw what it did to the Inquisitor. I'm fine with it if it means I end this thing."

Gandalf looked at her with soft eyes. "You choose this task yourself?"

"I do." Mala said. "Ryloth, my entire species is at risk. If it keeps them safe, I'll do it."

"Well, there we have it." Mothma said. "We have our ring bearer. That was simple enough."

"Fine." Ryda grunted. "Grey Team will be tasked with destroying the Ring, but I want Rogue Squadron ready to complete the mission, should something unexpected happen."

"Fine." Mothma agreed. "We will adjourn until 1400 when Glorfindel will map out the route we will take through the Unknown Regions. Mala, you are sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure." She replied.

Mothma looked at the Twi'lek girl and gave her a weak smile.

"Very well. The fleet will ensure you get there to do your duty." Mothma said.

"The ground forces are behind you as well." Dodonna said. "We'll keep you alive out there."

"Despite my belief that my fighter squadrons could accomplish the task, it appears to be the will of the fucking gods themselves that you are the one to throw that ring into the pit," Ryda said. "So, good luck, and may the force be with you, child."

Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder. "You will not share this burden alone. We are all behind you."

"The Elves are ready to carve the path straight into the land of fire." Glorfindel said. "So perhaps, let us not waste any more time reciting oaths, and let's prepare for our departure."

"Right." Mothma said. "Mala, you're dismissed. I will let the other candidates know their attendance is no longer required at this briefing. Admirals, Generals, let's get this fleet underway."

With that, the room emptied as everyone left for their place of duty. Mothma and Ryda both entered the bridge, and the Mon Cal Admiral wasted no time, quickly barking orders to the crew.

"All hands, prepare for hyperspace launch, chart for Takodana. Signal all patrol squadrons to dock. We depart in ten minutes."

"Sir!" The sensor officer shouted. "I'm picking up something on sensors! It's an Imperial ship!"

"What? How did they find us?!" Mothma said anxiously.

"All hands, red alert, target that ship, and prepare to fire a broadside on my mark!" Ryda ordered. "Scramble fighters!"

"They're hailing us! I'm detecting no shields or weapons charging."

Ryda's round Mon Cal eyes squinted at the ship on the viewscreen. "Open the channel then."

"Admira Ryda, sorry we're late." Came a voice on the intercom.

"Commodore...Tarwin?" Ryda asked cautiously. "What the hell happened back there?!"

"Perhaps we should discuss that in private," Vanick said. "But the Shadow is ready to join the fleet. Permission to assume position in the formation?"

Ryda looked at Mothma.

"A trap?" She whispered.

"How do we know you aren't a suicide ship, or a spy?" Ryda asked.

"Inspect my ship if you need to." Vanick replied. "We've taken precautions to sweep the hull for tracking devices and sabotage. We've risked everything to be here. The Empire's declared us traitors, and have nowhere else to turn to. Let us join you."

Ryda sat forward in his command chair, his eyes looking off in deep thought. "We will send our sabotage specialists to inspect your ship. Stay at your present coordinates and do not move, or we will be forced to destroy your ship."

"Very well. Staying put. Looking forward to working with you. Glad to see the elves decided to join the fun."

Ryda cut the communication and turned to Mothma. "What do we have for sabotage specialists?"

"We have...Grey Team and Danger Squadron." Mothma said hesitantly.

"That's it?" Ryda said. "It'll take hours to scan the whole Destroyer with so few people."

"Maybe days, but that's all we have." Mothma replied.

"Damn. Well, shut down the hyperdrive, we're going to be here a while."

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Ship: The Shadow**

**Location: The Sarrish System**

**Subject: Marcos Rey**

"These are some pretty empty halls for a Star Destroyer. Where's all the crew?"

"None of your business, rebel. Just do your job."

Marcos followed behind the rebels as they scanned the walls and ceilings of the ship for signs of sabotage. A Twi'lek, a Wookiee, two Humans and a Bothan each had small handheld devices, beeping and ticking as they moved through the sterile, cold Star Destroyer halls. Every time the Wookiee grunted or sniffed, Marcos' trigger finger twitched, ready to empty his blaster's power cell into its furry skull, but it was just an urge, an instinct from battles long-passed.

"You're not on Kashyyyk, you're not on Kashyyyk. One...two...three..." He whispered to himself, counting to ten and breathing deeply to calm his mind.

"What was that?" The Twi'lek girl asked, looking behind her.

"Don't worry about it. Keep moving." Marcos barked.

"You know, you could drop the tough guy stormtrooper thing." The Twi'lek said. "We're supposed to be on the same side."

"Supposedly." Marcos grunted. "Just do your job and cut the chatter."

The red-skinned Twi'lek rolled her eyes and continued her scan of the ship. "This will take all day. Sixteen-hundred meters of hull, hundreds of kilometers of corridors. Scraps, see if you can speed this up."

There was a beep, and the metal backpack on the Twi'lek's back suddenly morphed into a buzz-droid. It scuttled off into the hall out of Marcos' sight.

"Hey, no droids!" Marcos shouted.

"If you're worried we'll scan the blueprints and figure out Imperial secrets or whatever, you're twenty years too late." The Twi'lek said. "We've had Star Destroyer deck layouts for decades."

Marcos huffed. "Fine."

The Wookiee looked back, into Marcos' helmeted eyes. The two stared at each other for a second, before the Wookiee slowly turned back to his work.

"Tell that walking carpet to keep his eyes forward." Marcos grunted.

"You always this pleasant?" The Twi'lek asked. "That 'walking carpet' has a name."

"I really don't care, rebel." Marcos replied.

"Also, my name isn't 'rebel,'" The Twi'lek said, mocking Marcos' voice. "It's Mala."

"Fine. Mala and Carpet."

The Wookiee stopped walking and spun around and growled at the offending Stormtrooper.

"Kazz, don't start anything. This is not the place."

"Listen to your girlfriend, 'Kazz'." Marcos ordered defiantly.

The Wookiee growled, then turned back to his work. Marcos sighed with relief as his finger removed itself from his blaster trigger.

"It's Shorkazza to you. Calling him 'Kazz' is restricted to friends only." Mala scolded.

"Wookiee names have meanings, don't they? What does Shorkazza stand for exactly?" Marcos asked.

"It means Shadow Tracker. Or Deadly Ghost, depending on the local dialect." Mala explained. "Old Kazz here can find anything anywhere, and kill them just as easily. When you Imperial bastards invaded Kashyyyk, he and his brother killed an entire Stormtrooper platoon on their own. Almost got killed by a grenade. His brother wasn't so lucky. So I'd keep the insults to a bare minimum, or you might just give him an excuse to end this truce right here, and nobody wants that."

Marcos stopped moving for a moment. "A grenade?" he said quietly.

Surely...not…

Mala looked back at the frozen trooper. "What?"

"Nothing...just...nothing," Marcos said. "Let's finish this up."

"By finish this up, you mean finish this one deck, among the hundreds we still have to do, right?"

"Right…" Marcos mumbled.

Watching these two scan the ship for the next god knows how many hours. What a treat. Marcos felt beads of sweat roll down his face. He tried to keep the memories of that day on Kashyyyk out of his head. But just as vividly as on that day, the look on that Wookiee's face before the detonator went off flooded his memory.

He couldn't be sure, but the chance that Marcos was the one that threw the detonator that killed this Wookiee's brother... Marcos stayed quiet for the rest of the walk through the corridors. The terrified face of that dead Wookiee haunted him the whole way.

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Ship: The Dread, Executor-Class Dreadnought**

**Location: Corellia Shipyards**

**Subject: Admiral Draven Tarwin**

"How soon can we be ready to resume the pursuit?" Tarwin asked his First Officer.

Admiral Tarwin sat in his ready room, scrolling through fleet logistic documents and tedious paperwork. He hated the desk portion his rank and position demanded, but he tolerated it. It was necessary for the proper function of the war machine, despite its tedium.

Draven had tracked the Mouth Of Sauron's remaining fleet to the south of the Galaxy, but it appeared the Black Numenorean's tactics had changed. He wasn't interested in conquering worlds or disrupting supply lines. He wasn't retreating behind the frontline or finding a place to hide. He was just...going somewhere.

"We will be ready for departure by 1800 hours, Admiral." The Flag Captain replied. "The Numenorean will soon be out of places to run."

"Don't be so sure that he is running away from us. I believe he is running towards something."

"Running towards what?"

"I can't be certain, but hopefully he finds it soon, for his sake. He's running out of galaxy, and quickly."

"Sir," The Flag Captain asked hesitantly, "Are we truly chasing after him all the way to the end of the galaxy?"

"He's dangerous, even if he's crippled. We'll follow him into Wild Space if we have to."

"But sir, this fleet is the most advanced in the galaxy." The Flag Captain mentioned. "Surely we'd be better put to use on the front-"

"Captain, I could swear my ears are deceiving me, because that certainly sounded like questioning my orders. Is that what that was just now? Please tell me it was just my aging ears hearing you incorrectly."

"I would never doubt your orders, Sir." The Flag captain said quietly.

"Fucking good." Draven grunted. "Anything else?"

"What do you want to do with the prisoners from Mandalore?"

Tarwin grinned. "Ah, right. The Mouth's converts. Show the galaxy what happens if they join with Mordor. Ensure those prisoners are made an example of to the highest degree. Show them that it's not the enemy they should fear. Show them that the one they should fear...is me."

"We shall prep the interrogation chairs, then."

"Very well. Thank you Captain, that will be all."

"Actually, sir, there is one more point of note to take care of."

"And what is that?"

"Sir, some of the crew of the Shadow was found in the Outer Rim, on Bespin."

"Good. You can make examples of them as well."

"Actually, they have requested a pardon."

Draven laughed. "And what possible reason would I grant that?"

"Their leader, a 'Lieutenant Cull', says he knows where your son is."

Tarwin's laughter quickly died at the news. His eyes went dark. "Show me this leader."

"At once, Admiral."

At once, the room's lights dimmed and the hologram switched on. In the blue light, a hologram of Lieutenant Cull stood, handcuffed and in prisoner's uniform.

"Explain to me why I should not send you to the Penal regiments," Tarwin asked. "And be quick."

"I know where your son is, Admiral." Lieutenant Cull explained.

"Yes, I know that part." The old Admiral replied impatiently. "Could you add some details to that claim?"

"First, I want a full pardon for me and my men, as well as their families. We left the Shadow to return to duty, and that's what we demand."

"Demand?" Tarwin said with a chuckle. "I could just rip your soul to shreds until you divulge my son's location. Interrogation is so much less paperwork than a pardon for...how many?"

"Eight thousand men, sir." The Flag Captain replied.

"Eight thousand, tsk, tsk…" Tarwin said. "Now, Lieutenant, you realize how much paperwork that is for me?"

"You send me to the chair, you can't be certain I'll talk." Cull replied.

"Oh, I'm fairly certain a few days with my best men, you'll be singing like a diva. We're through here."

"Wait!" Cull shouted. "Okay, I planted a tracking device in the Shadow. I'll give you the codes right now if you pardon me. Just me. You can have the rest of the crew, I don't care."

Tarwin raised an eyebrow. "You're a cold man, Lieutenant Cull. Either cold or very much a coward."

"I'll do anything to get revenge on the man who betrayed the Empire." Cull said desperately. "Your son is a traitor, and I want to see him hung from the Emperor's balcony every bit as much as you do. If that means every single one of my men dies for that cause, then so be it. I'll hunt him to the ends of the universe, I'll die if it means he dies with me. If that makes me a coward, then I accept that title."

Tarwin frowned. "You must have known that they would find any tracking device onboard. By now, they've found it and destroyed it."

"Yes, if they look for it on the ship, and not on one of the TIE fighters sitting in the Hangar." Cull replied.

Tarwin let out a chuckle. "Well, mister Cull. It appears you and your men are about to become the luckiest men in the galaxy. I just so happen to be busy hunting a very dangerous war criminal and am unable to chase after the traitor, Vanick Tarwin, myself. You will receive your pardon, and you will take the Thirty-Fourth Advanced Weapons Fleet. You will find my son, and you will bring him back to me."

Lieutenant Cull's face relaxed. "Thank you, sir. We will prove our loyalty tenfold. Vanick Tarwin will be found and eliminated."

"No." Draven said suddenly. "Bring him to me alive. I should be the one to put the bolt in his brain. I am his father, after all."

"Of course, Admiral." Cull said. "I will not disappoint the Empire."

"You've already done that." Tarwin said coldly. "You will return with my son or not at all. Should you return without him, all of your pardons will be revoked, and your sentences will be carried out as per Imperial Law demands. That should ensure you're not lying to me about that tracker. Am I absolutely clear?"

"Clear, Admiral." Cull said hesitantly.

Draven scowled, then cut the transmission. He sighed and placed his head in his hands.

"Admiral?" The Flag Captain asked with concern.

"Shut up. Get the fleet ready." Tarwin blurted.

"Yes...Admiral."

"What was that tone, Captain?" Draven asked, fury rising in his voice.

"Nothing, Admiral. I'll get the fleet ready." The Flag Captain said, suddenly sounding quite eager to leave the room.

The Admiral kept his head lowered and listened as the Captain's footsteps left the ready room. The door hissed twice, then silence. Damn that Numenorian. He found a way to get into his head. His words infected him.

_Admiral Tarwin, the man who couldn't even instill loyalty in his own offspring. What kind of commander are you, then? _

Deep within the Admiral, a fury unlike he had felt in his entire life welled up within him. For the first time in his life, he doubted his own resolve. He doubted his ability to lead.

No.

That's not what he felt.

It wasn't his ability to lead that was in question, it was the loyalty of his men that was the concern.

The Flag Captain...

It was obvious that there was slowly becoming a lack of loyalty amongst his crew, but why? Nothing had changed. Was it truly as the Mouth said? Was his son's actions truly to blame for his men's loss of fealty? Was this all Vanick's fault?

Damn him. And damn the Numenorean.

The Mouth of Sauron was a worm in his mind.

Perhaps this was all in his head? Perhaps this was some form of mental warfare?

No. The Flag Captain was building a mutiny.

He was certain of it.

He could feel it in the air.

Admiral Tarwin pulled his pistol from his belt and stood up. It was time to show the crew who their loyalty belonged to.

The one they should truly fear was him, and he would make sure that lesson was taught in full.

/

Draven stood over the Flag Captain's body, still smoking from the dozen holes the Admiral put in his body. His wild eyes returned to their normal calm collectedness. His breathing returned to normal and his heart rate slowed. He placed the pistol in its holster and wiped the sweat from his head, then replaced his cap on his balding head. He checked his rank plaque and straightened it, then he turned to face the bridge crew.

"Let it be known that any attempt to overthrow my command will be met with a bolt to the head. No questions asked, no mercy given."

With that, he turned back into his ready room and sat back down, spending the next three hours in silence.

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Planet: Ephel Duath**

**Location: Minas Morgul**

**Subject: Darth Vader**

Vader sat silently as the shuttle touched down on the surface of the unfamiliar planet. The conditions of the millennia-old Mordor ships were nearly intolerable. Torch-lit halls, poor hygiene of the inhabitants, and low morale only boosted by whip and stick. The Humans on board, the Haradrim, Rhun, Umbar, and Numenor soldiers, stayed with their own, avoiding the company of the Orcs whenever possible. In every hallway, there was a scuffle over food or weapons, or sometimes dominance. The ship was anarchy unless the chieftains, shamans, or other such disciplinarian ranks were nearby. Uruks slaughtered Orcs, who slaughtered Goblins, who slaughtered slaves. Everywhere smelled of death.

In the bowels of the Black Fortresses sat the numerous creatures under the cruel supervision of their Mordor masters. Trolls lived together in massive cages, fighting over food to ensure the strongest and most brutal survive until they reach the frontline. Fell Beasts were tamed by their Nazgul masters by way of the darkest and most ancient of magics until the beast's will was none other than that of their riders. Mumakil and Wargs underwent surgical alterations to improve their lethality. Cybernetics and drugs to enhance their reflexes. Electrodes in the brain to increase their already ravenous ferocity to an extreme, even suicidal level. No compassion or care for the animals existed here, only results. Their howls and whimpers rang through the training cages without end or pause.

Even deeper into the fortresses lay the birthing pits. Massive cloning facilities built only to produce creatures bred for war and nothing else. From the grey slimes of the underbelly of the ship, Orcs came by the thousands, howling and raging, often killing the first thing they saw before they were fully aware of their own existence. Thrust from birth into a world of brutality and war. It was like nothing Vadeer had ever seen, not even within the Kamino cloning facilities. He was told these Orcs were capable of reproduction much like humans and other humanoids, but these cloning pits of grey ooze, he was told, were more efficient and faster than conventional reproduction.

The entire ship was poorly lit, poorly maintained, and poorly air-conditioned. It was too hot in some places, too cold in others. Most torches would go out before the slaves could relight them, incurring punishments, should the slave drivers find out. Nothing good existed there. No good food, nor drink nor brotherhood nor comfort. Everything was black and red, and dark. Vader had spent three days on board, and three days was three days too many. It was almost a relief to be finally stuffed into this small, uncomfortable shuttle.

The doors opened, offending the Sith's eyes with more stark blackness. The ground of the planet was nothing but grey dirt and black mountains, with a bleakly unkempt path leading into the distance.

_Follow the path, young Sith._

The voice of the Undying, the faceless sorcerer, one of the men long-since turned to Sauron's will, whispered into Vader's mind. Could he truly serve a creature so brutal, so cruel as to allow his servants to live in such purely horrid places? Could Sauron truly bring Padme back? Could he truly hold the secret, the secret that he had searched for decades to find?

Anything was worth bringing her back. He would watch a million slaves whipped to death in shit-stained cargo holds if it meant seeing her smile again. He began his trek down the grey path.

As he walked, despite the barrenness of the landscape, he knew he was being watched very closely by unseen eyes. The great mountains stretched up past the clouds and came up from the ground so suddenly and so steeply, that it seemed unlikely that they were natural structures. As the path curved around the mountain's base, his destination finally unfolded before his eyes.

Minas Morgul, as they called it. The green glow of its massive walls was unhealthy and sickly-looking as if the very fortress itself was diseased and dying. Every spiked crenellation, every matriculation, every tower, every brick laid into its construction was unwelcoming and spiteful. Vader's senses were overwhelmed by anger and fear as he approached it. Just before he placed a foot on the bridge leading to its main gates, he came across two statues. They were watching him, somehow. Some sort of spirit was living inside them, keeping watch over the bridge. He felt anguish and resentment from the statues, and he quickly moved past them to leave their sight and their silent screams of hatred for him.

The closer he got, the clearer the size of the fortress was. It was a city all of its own, and its walls towered over him. The air was too still, it felt as if it, too, was dead. As he approached the main gate, the massive locks of the black doors unlatched with an echoing clank and a rusty scream. The doors separated from each other slowly, and as the inside of the fortress was laid bare for him to see, he suddenly grew disoriented, as if the land was slowly tilting to one side as if this place no longer bowed to the laws of the universe. The great tower in the center of the city loomed over everything, grimly watching over its domain with silent contempt. Vader knew it was there that he must go. Up into the tower.

The streets of the city were empty and silent. No one wandered the streets, and the few remaining buildings that stood were slowly crumbling beneath the weight of time. The great tower was beset by its own layers of walls and fortifications, and a great gate closed it off to outsiders. That gate, too, opened before him, and the darkness of the tower was revealed to him.

Within, torches of green flame burned eternally, lighting the way up the steps that spiraled their way to the top, to the sorcerer's chamber far above his head. To look down was to look at the great chasm and to lose your balance from the disorienting nature of the place. Every inhale and exhale from Vader's breathing apparatus echoed obnoxiously in the empty darkness of the tower.

Once he reached the top, two soldiers in Black Numenorean armour stood at the door, silently watching as he approached. Their breathing was wet and laboured as they stood like the rest of the fortress' statues, with vibrospears in one hand and electromagnetic shields in the other. Vader approached them silently, and they removed themselves from his path. The heavy wooden door behind them, covered in the veins of some strange alien mold, creaked open on its own, revealing yet another dark chamber.

"Welcome, Lord Vader." Came a hissing voice from the darkness deep within the chamber.

Vader entered the room, and the green glow of the tower swelled to light the chamber, revealing the three hooded figures standing within. A random assortment of weapons, armours, tools of sorcery and dark machinery lined the stone walls of the chamber. Great shelves of paper books and ancient holocrons sat on shelves that stretched to the ceiling, and an altar covered in dried blood sat in the center of everything.

"You were wise to join us, Anakin." The Undying said.

The Undying. A creature that is said to be the oldest of the nine, preferring dark magics over blunt force. Now that Vader was in his presence, he could feel the emptiness within the creature. The Nazgul's staff held the force energy of hundreds of creatures, as if the undead creature was a parasite that fed on the energy of others to fuel his own.

"Come." The Witch King's voice boomed. "Come speak with Him. The Dark Lord is waiting."

The Witch-King of Angmar. His great crown of thorns sat on his ghostly head, and he wreaked of the dark side more than either of the other two. The third Nazgul didn't speak, but he recognized the Easterling design of its armour. No doubt it was Khamul, the second-in-command of the Nine.

Vader silently approached the middle of the room, keeping his eyes on the beings of pure evil that surrounded him. The Witch-King presented the place on the floor that appeared to be a hologram projector. Vader placed himself on it.

"Bow before him. You must be accustomed to such traditions by now." The Witch-King hissed.

Vader gave the Nazgul a reluctant stare, but he had walked the path of false obedience before, many times. He slowly knelt down. As his kneepad touched the ground, a wall of flame burst from the floor to surround him in a curtain of orange fury. The room faded from view as the flame grew unnaturally ferocious, and yet no heat could be felt. It was almost as though he were inside the core of a star, yet the flames didn't burn his skin nor blind his eyes. Vader had never seen such hologram technology in the galaxy. Then again, any technology advanced enough is indiscernible from magic to those that don't know how it works.

"Ah, the mighty Lord Vader." A deep booming voice echoed through the flames, vibrating the Sith's scarred eardrums with every word. "The Jedi Hunter. The Chosen One. The one who would bring balance to the force. The Great Betrayer."

The creature's laugh echoed across the flames. "And now you kneel before me. Would that Obi-Wan was alive to see you now…his greatest failure now turned fully towards the darkness. What do you seek for yourself, Sith?"

"I am not here for me." Vader said. "I'm here for someone else."

"Ah, yes." The booming voice rang in Vader's helmet. "The female Human, Padme. You wish her back in your arms, smiling before you. Laughing. You seek my power for this. What possible thing could you give me in return?"

"Padme is my only concern." Vader replied. "Whatever the cost, it will be done."

"You betray Sidious so readily. You betray the Jedi. Your friends. Your family. Life itself." Sauron whispered. "How can I know you will not betray me as all the others?"

"What proof do you need?" Vader asked.

"Proof…" The voice contemplated. "I do not need proof. There is but one way I can be certain of your obedience."

"What is that?"

Sauron let out a quiet chuckle that boomed over the roar of the flames.

"Our wills must be bound, Darth." Sauron explained. "Our minds must be intertwined. Your will must be my will."

Vader looked up suddenly. "I will not become one of your soulless slaves."

"No?" Sauron said, his laugh deafening.

"Ask me to kill the Emperor, I will do it, but my will is my own. Without it, I may lose everything that I am. My desire to save Padme...might be lost. I cannot risk that."

There was a silence for only a moment. Then, through the vortex of fire, a slender man stepped gracefully through to come face-to-face with Vader. His long golden hair flowed in the wind of the flames that surrounded them. His white robes were decorated with gold and silver, and his skin was pale, as if the sun was an eternal stranger to it. The smile on its face was kind, but insincere.

"Anakin. You would do anything to save her, would you not?" Sauron said, kneeling down to meet Vader's face.

Sauron waved his hand, and through the flames appeared a woman, smiling and laughing, dressed in a white gown of elegance and extravagance only the Naboo could hope to emulate.

"Padme?" Vader whispered, standing up.

"Anakin!" The woman said excitedly, her voice distant and faded. "I have missed you too much to bear."

"Padme…" Vader said, standing and moving past the Maiar to meet the smiling woman.

He took Padme in his arms. "Is it really you?"

"Anakin, how could you say that?" Padme said in jest. "I have been waiting for you for so long. I want nothing more to sleep beside you again, to run my hand through your hair."

"My hair…"

Vader looked away from her in self-disgust.

"I will bring you back." Vader promised. "I will-no!"

As he spoke, Padme faded back into the flames surrounding the two. Vader reached after her, but she was quickly gone from view, replaced with flame.

"Such youthful vigour, so prematurely stolen from her, and you did so very little to save her." Sauron whispered. "She can live again. This, I promise you. All you have to do is one thing."

Vader felt the Maiar's hand wrap around his armoured shoulder.

"She will live, to be happy, to be able to love again," Sauron continued "To lead the life she was supposed to live before you betrayed her. This is your mistake to mend, Anakin. I offer you this only chance."

Vader looked into Sauron's eyes. The shame of her death welled up inside him. The shame of that one day on Mustafar that took everything from him. The rage within him that caused so much of his pain and sorrow was an unwanted scar in his mind that he could not remove.

"I will not become one of your wraiths. There must be another way." Vader said.

"A wraith?" Sauron said. "Is that what you believe I have prepared for you? Don't be so naive. They were men, nothing more. You are so much more than they ever were. You are capable of wielding _my _power. Conducting it. Manipulating it. Bending it to your will. This is something truly rare in mortals, but you cannot wield it as you are."

Sauron pulled a ring from his robes. Vader had to refrain from taking a step back from the pure, raw force power flowing through the small silver band.

"Take it." Sauron said. "Take it, and you will become far more powerful than Darth Sidious ever was. All life will fear you as they fear me. You will become a god over life and death. Kill who you so desire. Resurrect whomsoever your heart wills. With my power flowing through you, nothing will be capable of stopping you."

Vader looked at the ring in the Maiar's hand. Could this creature be telling the truth? So many had lied to him before. So many attempts to return Padme to life had ended in failure and pain. He couldn't withstand another lie and another failure.

Then again...to touch her skin again...to hear her laugh again...to tell her he was sorry over and over again for what he had done...what was one more risk if it meant she might come back?

"How much of me will remain?" Vader asked. "Once that thing is on my finger, how much of you will replace me?"

"You will be Anakin," Sauron replied. "Everything you are, you shall keep. However, you will not be able to defy me. When I call upon you, you will answer the call and you will follow my commands."

Vader took one last look at where Padme's ghost had been. Memories of her filled his mind. Her understanding. Her kindness. Her intelligence. His mind was made up.

Vader slowly reached for the ring. Sauron's smile widened he took the ring and looked down at it, at its simplicity, at the power hidden deep within it. He held out his finger and placed the silver band upon it. All at once, he felt an overwhelming surge of power straining to be contained within his broken body. He felt the power of the Maiar grow within him. The signature of every force-sensitive being in the galaxy suddenly filled his mind. He felt them all, their locations, their emotions, everything.

"Now. Remove that amour. You will not be needing it." Sauron said with a smile.

Vader hesitated but did as he was told. His helmet detached with a hiss and a click, but the fresh air no longer stung his skin. He took a breath and felt no rasp, no urge to cough, no pain. He reached up with a gloved hand and felt...hair. The horrid scars that blemished his head were gone.

Immediately, he ripped the rest of his armor off as quickly as he could. The panel that kept him up at night with its incessant beeping, he crushed beneath his boot. The gauntlets that protected his cybernetic limbs, his shoulder plate, every piece of metal that weighed him down and caused him so many years of discomfort and agony, he threw away to reveal his healed skin and reinvigorated muscles.

All that remained of his battle with Obi-Wan all those decades ago were his cybernetic limbs. For the first time in longer than Anakin could remember, he allowed himself a smile.

Quickly, he thought of Padme. He thought of bringing her back. Holding out his hand, he strained to pull the power from the ring to rip her from death, but nothing came of it. Vader frowned and gave Sauron a look of defeat.

"I-" He started. "I can't feel Padme. I can't bring her back."

"Every service done for me will be another step closer to your goal, Lord Vader." Sauron said. "Soon, you will be able to bring back anyone you desire. Bring back enemies just to kill them again, for all time. Bring back family and friends. But not yet...

"There is a fleet moving into my domain that carries something of great value to me. A ring, much like the one I have given to you, but made of gold and of much greater importance. Take my personal armies, find the intruders, destroy them, and bring my Ring back to me. Only then will I grant you the power of resurrection."

Anakin should have known it wouldn't be so simple. It never was before, and it never will be. He would play this game. Nothing was out of the question for her. He had killed to save her before. He would do so a million times again.

"It will be done."

Sauron smiled, then backed himself into the surrounding whirlwind of flames until he was completely gone from sight. Suddenly, the hologram shut off. The flames disappeared, and Anakin found himself once again in the dark green glow of the Morgul tower. He looked at the three Nazgul that awaited him. They bowed to him slowly.

"You are now his sword." The Witch-King said. "His hammer. His will incarnate. We bow before you."

Anakin didn't care about these mindless ghosts. He just wanted to complete this task and get what he wanted. He took his first steps without his bulky armour in years, savouring every little movement, every gust of wind against his hair, every horrible Morgul smell,every sight he saw with his own eyes. Every breath was a blessing. Every strand of hair was sacred.

His thoughts turned to Palpatine. Decades of being crippled and burdened by his former master...decades of living in servitude to a wrinkled creature that wanted him to suffer and slave, nothing more.

He left Minas Morgul with renewed hatred for the Emperor for being unable to, or perhaps refusing to give him that which Sauron had just gifted him. When this gold Ring is retrieved and Padme returned to him, he would pay Palpatine a visit and make him truly understand the nightmare he had lived by Palpatine's side these past twenty years.

Would Sheev scream when his eyes are burnt away? Will he beg for mercy when his limbs are removed, one by one? Vader so very much wanted to find out. And finally, when he had had his revenge, Vader would throw Sidious into the magma rivers of Mustafar.

Vader smiled to himself as he imagined the screams Palpatine would try to squeeze out of his melting mouth as his body slowly sank into the molten rock.

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Location: Orthanc, in orbit over Isen III**

**Subject: Saruman the White**

Saruman walked through the station, overseeing the hundreds of Orcs and Uruks that bustled past him in preparation. The halls were a cacophony of grunts and orders being screamed over the rustle of armor and the thumps of running feet. The massive turrets and weapons platforms that protected Orthanc were activated for the first time in millennia. These great Numenorean weapons sprang to life with a deep electric hum and a deafening creak as the old turrets rotated slowly into firing position.

Over the planet, ships of the White Hand were arranged to protect the factories and resources of the world below. Fighters and bombers were prepared for launch, and the Uruk forces within the station were prepared to repel boarding parties.

Once every and every creature was in position, the orbital fortress grew deathly silent. Not a soul moved as everyone waited for the enemy to arrive out of hyperspace.

Saruman looked out through the great doors of the fortress's hangar bays, out into the void, and he waited. For hours, the station stood in silent anticipation.

"Show yourself, Sheev." Saruman whispered to himself as he impatiently leaned against his staff with both hands. "Show me what you can conjure against me."

It would be a few more minutes before the Emperor's personal fleet would drop out of hyperspace. Destroyers and dreadnoughts of every size and shape came forth, their white hulls catching the light of the Isengard star, demonstrating the size and scope of the armada appearing before Orthanc.

Saruman squinted to see. There was one ship within the formation that he didn't recognize, nor did he see it immediately, as its black hull hid it better from the star's light than the other ships, but it slowly came into view, and it was massive. The Star Destroyers surrounding it seemed like frigates in comparison to its size, and its profile was thick and wide. The Executors that escorted the black ship seemed sleek and thin in comparison.

Saruman's eyes widened as the bow of the massive Imperial dreadnought began to glow green.

"Brace for incoming fire!" Orthanc's announcement systems yelled.

A green beam of energy burst from the bow of the dreadnought. It flew across space almost instantly, striking Orthanc and shaking the entire fortress. Saruman used the force to stabilize his balance while dust and debris flew up into the air around him. Were he not capable of creating a ballistic field around him, the shrapnel would have shredded his body apart.

Once the dust had cleared, the fortress began opening fire upon the Imperial armada. All at once, hundreds of blue arcs of lighting soared across the void, ramming into the hulls of the Imperial ships. The opposing fleet returned fire with a stream of hundreds of thousands of turbolaser rounds.

Saruman's ingenuity and scientific knowledge had supplied him with the technological advantage, arming his ships with weapons that passed through shields and stripped ships at the atomic level. Blue arcs of energy capable of shredding hulls away, layer-by-layer, bombarded the Imperial fleet, who returned fire with similar ferocity.

Hundreds of squadrons of TIEs and Orthanc interceptors buzzed around the two massive opposing forces. Not even the Wizard's ageless mind could decipher the sheer carnage that played out before him. There were too many projectiles, too many fighters, too much turbulence within the fortress to define what he was truly seeing, but he did his best to keep his eye on that dreadnought, watching its hulking black outline slowly lurch its way across the battlefield.

Another beam of green struck Orthanc, throwing the White Wizard off balance once again. It mattered little. Orthanc was impenetrable. Entire fleets could expend every ounce of ammunition they possessed and still not truly damage the station. He was safe, within its walls. Ancient magics had protected its hull long before the Sith were even conceived. Saruman laughed at the Empire's valiant attempts to destroy his station.

Eventually, merely watching became tiresome for the wizard. With both hands, he pointed his staff at the center of the Imperial fleet.

His elvish chants rang across space, into the ears of every Imperial aboard every Star Destroyer as but a faint whisper on the wind, but it wasn't warning enough for the souls who heard it.

Slowly, a single ship began to lilt to one side. Then, other ships began to follow suit, all being pulled towards something in the middle of the formation.

"Warning. Blackhole detected." Orthanc's computer warning system called out through the hangar where Saruman stood.

The wizard smirked as he watched his work unfold. A dozen Imperial ships tried to push themselves away from the black hole's pull, but it was a futile gesture. Their hulls slowly ripped apart, piece-by-piece, and the chunks of hull zipped towards the black hole, then suddenly stopped just before entering the event horizon. The time dilation of the black hole's gravity well slowed the ships around it, forcing turbolaser rounds to move slower across space, allowing the Uruk cruisers to more-easily dodge the incoming rounds.

Finally, Saruman had expended his strength, and he released his hold on the black hole. The hole returned to the nothing from whence it came, and the ships surrounding the black hole, freed from the time dilation, suddenly regained their velocity. A dozen ships all rammed into each other at near-light speeds as they flew towards the spot where the black hole once sat. Millions of tons of Imperial steel collided from all directions. A dozen hyperdrives exploded all at once, releasing an inconceivable amount of raw energy into space.

Saruman grinned and caught his breath as he watched the Imperial fleet scatter and panic. The shockwave of energy hit Orthanc, once again throwing the station into a fit of turbulence. The battlefield became clouded with debris, leaking gas, light and dust, until nothing could be seen through the insanity with the naked eye.

Then, like a ghost ship cutting through the fog, the Eclipse Dreadnought emerged through the chaos, cutting a path straight towards Orthanc. Saruman watched as the ship gained speed.

Were they going to ram his station? An incomprehensible amount of mass charging at the station, accelerating at 940Gs...was Orthanc able to withstand such a thing?

Surely this was a bluff. Palpatine wouldn't be so mad as to risk everything just to...no. He wasn't bluffing. There was no way a ship that size was able to turn away now. He was going to ram the station. Could Numenorean magic stand against a multi-billion ton ram?

He would find out in mere seconds.

The Eclipse fired one last blast from its superlaser seconds before it rammed into Orthanc's hull. Finally, Orthanc's magic gave way to the sheer inertia of the dreadnought's charge. The Eclipse rammed straight through the station's hull, splitting through hundreds of decks. The black hull cut its way into the side of the hangar, pushing the air out of its way with such power that the shockwave threw the unwitting Saruman clear across the hangar, smashing his head against the far wall.

The Eclipse continued to fire its engines, forcefully pushing its way further and further into the ancient orbital fortress. Meter-by-meter. Deck-by-deck. After a few minutes, the Eclipse shut off its engines and stopped its push into the station.

Saruman stood up and cleared the dust surrounding him away with a flick of his hand. He felt the back of his head and felt warm fluid draining from it.

No ship had ever damaged this station. Not in two-million years.

And yet, there it was. The massive black hull of the Eclipse Class, loudly creaking and groaning as it slowly settled into place within the station. Saruman looked up at the ship's ludicrous size. The massive black wall of metal, flat and smooth, sat from floor to ceiling. Only a small portion of the ship could be seen from the hangar, such that it wasn't even identifiable as an actual ship. Dust and metal fell from the scar left in Orthanc's hangar, bouncing off the Eclipse and loudly clanging against the floor. Had Orthanc been any smaller, the station would have surely been cracked open like a walnut. The Eclipse was big, but thankfully, Orthanc was bigger. Much bigger.

There was no doubt Darth Sidious was on that ship. Saruman could feel the sheer raw dark side power, the nexus of emotion and hatred sprouting from deep within the decks of that massive dreadnought. No doubt Sidious felt the wizard's presence too. It would only be a matter of time before they tracked each other down.

"Come out, then, Sith." Saruman bellowed. "You have come this far to see me! Why do you hesitate?"

Hydraulic hisses and metal creaking slowly settled into silence, only interrupted by the occasional chunk of steel falling from the ceiling. Finally, deep within the ship, there came a series of noises. Blaster fire began to ring out through the halls of the station.

"Boarding parties detected." The station's system warned. "Prepare to repel."

Saruman scoffed and walked briskly for the door to defend his station.

/

With a lazy swing of his staff, a dozen Imperial marines were deatomized faster than their nerves could detect the pain. Another swing, and a dozen more faded into dust. Everywhere, Uruks and Imperials battled, filling the hallways with death and smoke. The White Wizard eradicated everything in an Imperial uniform that was foolish enough to board his station on his way to find Palpatine.

The dark side had filled the station like a fog, and it overwhelmed the Istari's sensitive connection to the force. Palpatine was here. Somewhere…

Saruman closed his eyes and tried to track the source of the dark power that was filling Orthanc. His mind scanned the endless hallways of the hulking Numenorean station, tracking the river of dark side energy until finally, Sidious' location was presented to him.

He was waiting for the wizard in the wizard's throne room.

/

Saruman entered the chamber to find the Sith master waiting for him, sitting in the wizard's throne, perusing one of the many hundreds of the ancient scrolls that lined the walls of the Istari's study. The bodies of troopers and uruks sat mixed among each other, their bodies still steaming from both blaster and lightsaber wounds, and yet, Sidious was calm and untouched. His clean black robes and low hood almost blended in with the walls of the chamber, allowing only his chin and smiling mouth to be visible in the darkness.

"So much knowledge, and yet, you don't have the wit to see what a fool you are." Sidious said, his face not looking away from the scrolls.

"It is a fool who defies the will of Sauron." Saruman said. "It is wise to join with him. The time of men is at an end, Sith. you must understand this."

"No." Sidious mumbled. "It is only the beginning. The Sith rule this galaxy. You are a relic, and will be dealt with as nothing but a relic."

Sidious placed the scroll down with care and turned his head towards the wizard.

"Your body is old. Do you seriously believe you can contend with me in your condition?" Saruman asked.

"Your arrogance is your weakness." Palpatine replied. "The eons have not been kind to you either, wizard."

Sidious stood from the throne and looked over to the Palantir, which sat quietly on the altar in the far chamber. "I see you could not withstand his lies. Your will is weak. It is not too late to realize the true power in this galaxy, Istari. With your armies and my Empire joined together, we could destroy Sauron forever. We could take his ring for ourselves and rule the universe."

"You would take the Ring for yourself?" Saruman asked. "No mortal can wield it. Not even you. Against the will of Morgoth's Lieutenant, there can be no victory. You see, mortal, the reality is it is not too late for _you _to join _us_. There need not be war between our three powers. We all seek dominion. It can be shared."

Sidious let out a cackle. "We three cannot rule together! I will not bow before another master! I _am _the master!"

"A master of none." Saruman replied. "Not even your apprentice remains loyal to you. Vader understands the truth. He has joined us. You have no one left."

Sidious' grin failed him, and it quickly fell into a scowl. "It was a matter of time that the apprentice betrayed the master. It is the Sith way. He will be dealt with in due time. Very well then. It is clear we will not find treaty here."

With a flick of his hand, a lightsaber dropped out from Sidious' sleeve to his hand. Saruman readied his staff, forcing another laugh out of Sidious.

"An old man's walking stick cannot defeat me." Palpatine cackled.

With a wild shout of rage, Saruman swung his staff at the Sith, pushing a blast of force power full-force into the aging Emperor's body. Palpatine was pushed back into the throne, but he quickly stood up again, throwing a blast of lightning at the wizard.

Saruman felt the static around him as he shielded himself from the attack with a magnetic field that circled his body like a bubble. The lightning bounced around him and hit the back wall, shredding scrolls and destroying everything it touched. Palpatine roared, and the lightning intensified. Despite Saruman's efforts, some of the lightning broke through, burning the wizard's robes and skin underneath.

With a grunt of pain, Saruman threw another blast of power from his staff at the Sith, who was prepared for it this time and blocked it. The blast of raw force energy hit the throne behind him, vaporizing the scroll Palpatine had so carefully placed there. Dust flew from the ancient throne, the shockwave flapping through Sidious' robes.

Sidious threw his lightsaber at the wizard, who deflected it with a jab from his staff. Over and over again, the Emperor would catch and throw his blade, then take a step forward, and again Saruman would deflect it until the two had closed the gap between them.

Sidious laughed maniacally as both red lightsaber and blue lightning met the raw energy of Istari magic. In such close quarters, and surrounded by the nearly-indestructible walls of Orthanc, neither seemed able to land a hit as they danced around each other. The blasts from Saruman deflected every thrust and swing from Sidious's lightsaber, and everything organic was unmade from reality by the fighting of such powerful creatures.

"You are strong, old man." Saruman said, catching his breath.

"You are a worthy opponent...old man." Sidious grinned as he pressed the attack. "I think I'll keep you alive to witness my victory. When I have claimed the Ring, I will test its power on you first."

"The ring will undo your soul, mortal." Saruman replied, knocking Sidious' lightsaber out of his hand. "My spies have already discovered its location. You are too late!"

Saruman knocked Palaptine to the floor with a grunt and a thrust of his staff into the Sith's chest. Palpatine hit the ground and covered his face with his hands.

"Please, don't kill me!" Sidious begged. "The ring can be yours! I'll do anything!"

Saruman's eyes squinted with suspicion. "I did not expect you to fall so quickly. The great Darth Sidious..."

"Spare me!" Palpatine whined. "I'll be your servant, I'll do anything! I don't really care about the ring! Please!"

Saruman allowed himself a grin before his defeated opponent.

"Truly, it was your will that was weak all along." Saruman boasted. "Witness yourself, cowering before the threat of death. When my fleets reach Sarrish, they will bring the Ring to me, and I will be the one who tests its power on _you._"

Palpatine's cries for mercy suddenly stopped, and the Sith looked up with a devilish grin. "Sarrish? Very interesting."

Saruman's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. His upper lip twitched with rage.

"No!" Saruman said, thrusting his staff into the Sith's chest, breaking the bones in his aging body.

"Good! Good!" Palpatine croaked with strained breath. "Kill me! It's the only way to stop me now!"

Palpatine threw one last lightning surge against the wizard. Saruman caught a bolt to the face before he could put up his defenses. With a groan of pain, Saruman raised his staff into the air, lifting Palpatine along with it. The enraged Istari threw Palpatine into the wall, breaking the old man's neck against its hard surface. Saruman caught his breath and composed himself.

He felt his head. Blood and burnt skin. His hair was knotted and burnt in places by the heat. His robes were tattered and dirtied. It took him a few moments to realize, but he had defeated the Empire single-handedly. Palpatine was dead, and his Empire along with him. Sauron must be informed.

As he let his breath catch up with him, he looked down at Palpatine's broken body. As he watched, the Sith's smiling corpse slowly faded from reality, leaving only his robes to prove that he was ever there at all.

"No!" Saruman roared, realizing his grave mistake. "That's Impossible! NO!"

/

**Year: 1ABY**

**Planet: Coruscant**

**Location: The Emperor's Personal Cloning Facility.**

**Subject: Sheev Palpatine**

Palpatine was surrounded by darkness, nothingness surrounding his spirit. He felt the eyes of the Jedi upon him. Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon Jinn. He also felt the eyes of the Sith. Darth Bane. Darth Marr. All were looking upon him with hatred. This was expected. They were dead, and he was just a temporary guest here. Then, with a mechanical whirring, a sudden drop, a gasp of air, and a cough cleared his soft, unused lungs of amniotic fluid, he was back in the light of the universe. The Emperor opened his eyes and observed his surroundings. He was alive again. He looked down at his body. It was young. It was vibrant. The skin was no longer loose and wrinkled, and the hair was no longer grey and dry. His muscles were defined and strong, as he was during his apprenticeship under Darth Plagueis. His laugh was youthful again, not the weak cackles of an old man.

The Sith stood up and met the eyes of several dark figures waiting for him. His personal physician, several Byss Mages, a squad of shadow guards, and other lesser dark side cultists stood in silence as they watched their Emperor stand up and take his first steps with his new body.

"It worked?" Palpatine asked.

"It did." The physician replied. "But it was risky to attempt it so early before the tests were-"

"It worked, did it not?" Palpatine said sternly, barely recognizing his own youthful voice. "You question the dark side's power?"

"No, my lord." The physician replied weakly.

Palpatine smiled, then turned to the others. "Bear witness to the true might of the dark side! I have discovered eternal life!"

"What shall we tell the people?"

Palpatine turned to meet the origin of the voice. Sate Pestage, the Grand Vizier and head of government for the Empire, pushed his way through the crowd.

"What do we tell them about your transformation? There is already too much confusion out there with the war and the plague. To put you on display would arouse further unrest, no doubt. They would think you some sort of unnatural creature. They might lose trust in the government."

"I _am _unnatural," Palpatine replied. "But it is of no concern. The people will follow anyone they deem able to save them. If they see their Emperor is young again, they will find a renewed faith in him. They will see victory in their grasp. Everything is going as planned."

"Very well." Sate replied reluctantly. "I will schedule an appearance on HoloNews."

"Grand Vizier." Palpatine called out.

"Yes, Emperor?"

"The Ring is in the Sarrish system. That is our priority now. Find it and bring it to me before others interfere with our plans."

Even across the vast distance, he could feel Saruman's rage and embarrassment, and he smiled as the Istari's roars of hatred rang across the stars.


End file.
